Wasted Youth
by Red Lioness
Summary: Sequel to Eternal Youth
1. Chapter 1

"Our Jackie

"Our Jackie! I'm stuck on a loose board!" Nana Spicer howled.

Jack Spicer left his robots to work and jogged half-heartedly down the dock to where his grandmother made a show of trying to force her wheelchair over a loose board.

"I gotcha, Nana," the albino teen said, forcing the wheelchair up and over the board. "Are you sure you want to come all the way to Austria? I mean, it's going to be a long trip and you'll probably be bored."

"You aren't sailing half-way around the world and leaving me to go rusty in that empty house!"

"Actually, it's more like three quarters of the way around the world," Jack muttered. "We're going across the Pacific, through the Panama Canal, and across the Atlantic. Less pirates that way."

Nana Spicer looked as though she was going to comment, but quickly hefted her cane and used the curved handle to lift the shirt of a handsome young Chinese man who was carrying a box along the dock. The box-carrier yelped in shock and dropped his burden. Jack flinched as he heard the tell-tale tinkle of broken glass from inside the cardboard.

"Nana! I'm so sorry; she's senile!"

"I remember what a good looking man looks like," Nana Spicer retorted, leering.

Jack blushed hotly and pushed his grandmother quickly to the end of the dock, where the sloop _The Spice of Life_ wallowed heavily in the tide. It looked like nothing more than an extra-large sailing ship for the spoiled rich, but it was loaded down with the fruits of Jack's rather destructive imagination.

There was a rebuilt Moler to replace the one that had been left at Atlantis, some compact, travel-sized wormbots, explosives, and spare parts galore.

"You're going to get us beat up, Nana! Even in Shanghai, ancestor worship only goes so far!" Jack hit the ramp leading up onto the deck of _The Spice of Life_ and abruptly lost momentum. The slim youth struggled to push his well-padded grandmother up the steep incline. He was saved from looking like a total ass when RoboJack 13 stepped off the deck, took the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Nana Spicer easily aboard.

"Yeah, well . . . I'm going to fix that," Jack muttered. He followed his robotic double aboard, then pressed the button to retract the gangplank.

As Nana instructed RJ 13 to deposit her on the foredeck so she could look out over the water, Jack went inside the cabin so he could get ready to cast off. The sun was shining, the seas were calm and the Pacific Ocean looked ready to live up to it's name. RJ 13 parked Nana Spicer, made sure to put the parking brake on her wheelchair, then went to the rail and waved. Two dock workers threw off the mooring lines. Inside the cabin, Jack fired up the engine and _The Spice of Life_ moved away from the dock.

Jack felt himself start to relax as he felt the dip and sway of the ocean's swell. He liked the sea. It was the last great frontier on the planet. If he ever imagined finding hidden treasure, he always figured it for buried pirate treasure on some sweltery tropical island with lots of rum and scantily clad native . . . well, men or women. Jack had finally come to the realization that he wasn't picky one way or the other. At any rate, Austria didn't immediately spring to mind when he thought of buried treasure.

Jack piloted the large sailboat out of the harbor, getting used to the sluggish feel of the heavily laden ship. He idly wondered if the treasure would weigh down the ship too much on the return trip.

"Well, here we are, Master!" RJ 13 declared, leaning in the open cabin door. "Off on another adventure!"

Jack looked over at his robotic double, who had shed his long black overcoat for a pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt. The albino youth did double take.

"Where did you get that shirt?" He asked.

RJ 13 looked down at the T-shirt he wore, which bore the words 'Sex Machine' across the chest in blue letters.

"In a store," he said, shrugging. He had been sent down to Shanghai to prepare _The Spice of Life_ for sailing a few days before. "I brought my adaptor kit, too. I'm _prepared_ for Europe, Master."

"I never thought I'd invent a disgusting pervert," Jack snorted.

RJ 13 snorted and turned back towards the bow.

"Hey, come here a minute," Jack instructed. While his robot double turned back towards him, Jack engaged the auto-pilot. The albino youth slid off the stool and went to his laptop, which had been set up on a nearby counter and secured with bungee cords. With a few taps of the keys, his hard drive opened up. Jack pulled out a CD Rom and approached RJ 13.

"Open up your hard drive; I have a new program I want to install."

RJ 13 leaned back slightly, eyeing the CD with distrust.

"What is it?"

"How would you like to replace 'Sex Machine' with 'Ass Whooping Machine'?" Jack asked with a grin.

RoboJack 13 considered this.

"I'm pretty good with 'Sex Machine', actually."

Jack frowned.

"Open up before I change your opinion manually," he ordered.

RJ 13 considered this, grimaced and pulled up his shirt. Jack popped open the robot's chest and installed the CD. For a moment, the automaton grew still and a whirring sound came from his chest as he copied the information to his hard drive.

The robot's red eyes snapped open.

"Whoa. I know kung-fu."

"No duh, 'Neo'," Jack stated. "I've downloaded Northern Xiaolin Style Kung Fu into your hard drive. You're going to teach me kung fu while we sail to Europe."

"_I'm_ going to be your master, Master?" the robot questioned.

"Let's not go there," Jack stated. "You're going to train me and teach me kung fu like no one else ever bothered to do. I'm sick of being a creampuff. I need to be strong."

RJ 13 considered this, then smiled.

"I'm glad, Master Jack," he said quietly. "It was good watching you grow up. Now _I_ get to help you grow strong. It makes me proud."

The automaton bared his dental-enamel teeth in a smile.

"You're . . . . proud of me?" Jack asked.

Out on the deck, Nana Spicer yelled for attention. The shifting deck had the elderly matron with the sun in her face and she didn't appreciate it. RoboJack 13 left the cabin and went to move her to a more shady spot.

Jack considered what his robot had told him, then went back to the helm and stopped the engines. With the push of a button, _The Spice of Life_'s sails unfurled. The albino genius steered the sloop sideways across the wind, as he'd been taught years ago and was rewarded with a soft 'whump' as the sails caught the wind.

The small sailing ship started to rock with the rhythm of the waves.

Jack smiled.

"You know what?" He said to no one in particular. "Screw the Heylin; there's a whole world out there and I'm gonna go get me some!"


	2. From the Back of a Broken Dream

"Single Whip!"

"Part the Wild Horse's Mane!"

Nana Spicer ignored the commotion behind her to concentrate on her fishing. She was enjoying the cruise but after a while she had to pick up a hobby and she had never been the knitting sort.

"Golden Cock Stands on One Leg!"

The two fighting figures behind her paused to giggle.

"You said 'cock'," Jack sniggered.

"I know," RJ 13 returned, still in his Tai Chi pose. "I guess that makes me the '_Mechanical_ Golden Cock'."

Jack guffawed rudely.

His robot minion caught the front of his shirt while he was distracted and hurled him the far side of the deck.

"Don't let your guard down, Master!"

* * *

Chase Young sat down at his dinner table, overloaded with delicious foods, and considered his company.

A black teddy bear sat in the opposite chair, boosted up on a box.

The dragon lord wondered which one of his warriors was trying to make a point _this_ time.

The toy was, of course, Jackbear. Chase had tried to rid himself of the lethal teddy many times, but some part of his psyche screamed in protest at the thought of actually _destroying_ the thing and no matter how far away he threw it, one of the jungle cats would drag it back in and leave it where he couldn't help seeing it.

He got the point; truly he did.

Jack had been loyal to him, saved him, protected him from his enemies and for a reward, Chase had thrown him out and cursed him. Even for an evil, ancient dragon lord, Chase had to admit that was . . . . less than fair.

"You may stop with the bear," he said out loud. "I will go to see Spicer tomorrow and offer him a _proper_ reward."

Pleased noises rose from the shadows where his warriors lurked. Snorting softly, Chase turned his attention back to his meal. Truthfully, he was planning on approaching Spicer when he next saw the youth for _some_ sort of compensation, but he simply hadn't seen Jack.

Spicer hadn't been to any Showdowns, hadn't raided the Xiaolin Temple, and even Chase's spying crows had seen no sign of movement in Jack's 'evil lair'.

Chase frowned slightly.

The little fool wouldn't have done anything stupid, would he?

If Jack hadn't been seen since Chase had returned to normal . . . . gods, that had been three months ago.

* * *

"Hallo there! I say, could you lend a bit of assistance?!" Sir Gerald called to the approaching ship. "We seem to have lost power!"

An elderly woman on the bow waved to him and then appeared to steer alongside with nothing more than a video-game style joystick.

"You lost, sweetie?" she inquired, smiling at the handsome young lord in what was not quite a leer.

"Oh, not quite, madam. My engine has lost all power and I'm afraid even my instruments have gone dead. Thank God for the sails or I would have been completely stranded."

"Oh, well, a handsome young man by yourself out here all alone? That's a recipe for trouble you know," she said with a grin. "I'm sure we could work out some sort of trade—"

"Stone Monkey Iron Fist Strike!"

"Drunken Monkey Falls on his Ass!"

Sir Gerald looked over and his breath caught in his throat. Tumbling out of the cabin came a pair of absolutely beautiful twin youths. Their skin was the purest white, their hair dyed a fiery red, their eyes glittering like rubies. The pair sparred in martial arts, leaping and tumbling across the deck like acrobats.

"Tall Monkey Heel Strike!" One of the twins – one with slightly shorter hair and what appeared to be a facial tattoo – brought one leg up high in a heel strike.

"Crafty Monkey Pretends to Piss His Pants!" The other yowled, curling into a ball at his brother's feet.

The standing twin snorted with laughter, closing his eyes just long enough for the prone twin to bring one leg around in a kick to his brother's ankle while the other leg slammed into the back of his knee with punishing force. The standing twin went down in a heap.

The prone twin quickly spun and landed on his brother's back.

"Now who needs to keep his guard up, smartass?!" The triumphant twin demanded.

"Our Jackie! Think you could lend this lovely young man some assistance?" The old woman called out sweetly. "He's having problems with his engine."

The triumphant twin looked up at Sir Gerald.

'Jack,' the young lord thought. 'I shall remember that name.'

In the space of a second, Jack was up and running across the deck. He put one booted foot on the railing and flipped easily over the short gap between the two yachts.

He landed and spun back towards his brother, a wrench appearing in either hand as if by magic.

"Ho, unworthy opponent! Now I school you in my mad tech-fu skillz!"

The twin with the tattoo laughed.

"I _am_ mad tech-fu skillz!" he protested, following Jack.

Sir Gerald couldn't help but notice the deck heaved a lot more when the second twin leaped aboard, which made no sense. If anything, young Jack had more muscle definition than his brother.

The twins ran below decks, still laughing and trading barbs.

Sir Gerald cast a look at the old woman, then went below himself.

* * *

After a while, RoboJack 13 came back up and hopped back aboard _The Spice of Life_. The android went to a large cooler in front of the cabin, dug through Nana's beer and Jack's sports drinks until he found a small bottle of engine coolant. RJ 13 popped it open and drank it down in long swallows.

"Where's Our Jackie?" Nana asked.

RJ nodded back towards the other boat.

"Sir Gerald is _thanking_ him." The slight emphasis on 'thanking' said everything it needed to.

Nana Spicer's brows rose.

"_Thanking_ him? Why are the pretty ones always gay?" She sighed. "I'm surprised he didn't want to _thank_ both of you."

"He did," RJ 13 said, tossing the bottle into the bin and digging through the cooler for another one.

"And you weren't bang along side that?" Nana asked. She had a very hard time believing the perverted robot passed up anything having to do with sex.

RoboJack Unit 13 gave his maker's grandmother an affronted look.

"I'm not gay!"

* * *

Chase Young was not one to prevaricate. The next morning, after his breakfast and training, when he had dawdled long enough to have the warrior cats giving him pointed looks, he called up the Eye Spy Orb to locate Jack Spicer.

Imagine his surprise when, instead of the expected stuffy rooms of Jack's 'Evil Lair', the Eye showed him miles upon miles of open ocean.

It focused in on two expensive yachts moored together, then closer in to the engine room of one yacht . . .

* * *

Jack glanced up at the subtle clearing of a male throat. He turned his attention from an impromptu wrestling match with RJ 13 to find a strikingly handsome man looking at them.

"I say," the man said, and when he smiled, his teeth were bright in his suntanned face. "Do you really know what you're doing with all this delicate equipment?"

Jack snorted, but grinned. "You saw that pretty boat out there? I built that. Every bit of it."

RJ 13 pointed at Jack and said, "He's the world's leading genius in the field of robotics and technology. Space travel will be available just as soon as he works out a few kinks in the math."

The man blinked and stared at them both for a moment, and then tried again.

"Terribly sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Gerald—"

"That's nice," Jack said, and turned back to the engine. "RJ 13, reach in and grab—"

"Yeah, got it."

Sir Gerald watched the young twin men working together, Jack muttering quietly to his brother.

Suddenly, the engine purred to life and the electronics came back on as well.

"Amazing!" Sir Gerald blurted. "How… what…?"

"Salt air corrodes wiring and parts," Jack said nonchalantly. "It was easy enough to strip away the old and fit in the new."

Sir Gerald stared at them. "But how—?"

"You had a ready pack of spares available in your engine room," Jack said, and held up a recently opened plastic box.

Sir Gerald blushed. "Ah… quite."

"Well, if that's all…" Jack said, and he started toward the door.

"Must you leave so soon?" Sir Gerald murmured, shifting slightly to block the way. He gave Jack – and RJ 13 – his most charming smile. "After all, I do owe you… _something_… for fixing my ship."

Jack wasn't stupid. He knew full well what the man was getting at.

RJ 13 stiffened. "I'm not gay."

Sir Gerald's eyebrows went up.

Jack licked his lips as he stared at Sir Gerald's fine, muscled form. Whatever this British playboy did elsewhere in life, he clearly saw to keep fit while doing it.

"I am," Jack said huskily, and his crimson gaze met Sir Gerald's green.

RJ 13 muttered something about going back up to keep Nana company. He quickly left the engine room, leaving the two men to stare at each other in wanton desire.

Jack stepped away from the engine compartment. He found a bulkhead and settled back against it, letting his body go warm and pliant. Tipping his chin up just a bit, he bared his throat; a subtle signal that he wanted to be _touched_.

Sir Gerald didn't need to be told. He sauntered forward, grinning in a warm and wicked, wonderful way that made Jack's insides feel hot and melty.

Then, the other man's tanned hands were gripping Jack's hips tightly and Sir Gerald was crowding him back against the bulkhead as their lips met; hesitantly at first, as they tested the fit of their mouths and each other's taste. Then, as they realized they fit really well, the kiss deepened and turned into something lewd and dirty hot.

Jack curled his arms around Sir Gerald's neck and shoulders, trying to pull himself closer against the larger, stronger man. Though Gerald was leanly muscular, he was a few inches taller than Jack, who rather appreciated that fact. He pushed his hips forward, rubbing his cloth-covered erection against Gerald's.

Gerald groaned into Jack's mouth. He kissed the young man a little harder; sucked on his tongue, nipped at Jack's lower lip, and then pulled away to begin biting and sucking along the elegant line of the younger man's jaw even as he reached down and caught hold of Jack's thighs.

Staggering slightly, they worked together as Gerald coaxed Jack's legs up around his hips. Jack locked his ankles loosely behind the other man's back, trusting Gerald to keep him pressed up against the bulkhead.

Breathing heavily, Gerald cupped Jack's backside in his hands and thrust against the younger man.

They both moaned; low, hoarse cries of delight. Even clothed, it felt _so_ damn good…!

Sucking on Jack's neck, trying to mark that perfect white skin, Gerald thrust again, and then again. He twisted his hips, grinding against Jack in a slow, teasing stroke that made Jack growl.

"Feels good," Jack muttered, his head tipped back and his eyes closed.

"Can feel even better," Gerald said against his throat, his voice muffled. "I've got lube…"

Jack smirked and rolled his hips against the other man, and laughed at Gerald's excited, shivering quick gasp.

"Just… just get our pants open," he muttered, reaching into his right front pocket.

It took some effort, considering how tightly compressed the material was, but Jack eventually pulled out a tube of sun block.

Gerald muttered something unintelligible as he managed to unsnap and unzip his shorts. In short enough order, he got Jack's pants undone and pushed aside.

They both groaned at the sensation of their naked erections brushing against each other. Their skin was hot and silky-smooth; the tips sticky and wet with arousal.

Jack made a negative noise and shook his head when Gerald tried to pull his pants further down.

"Not enough time," he said, popping the cap on the sun block.

"We're out in the middle of the ocean," Gerald disagreed, biting Jack's neck seductively. "We've all the time in the world!"

"How 'bout I don't want to?" Jack countered. "It's this or nothing."

Gerald growled, low and dangerous-sounding.

"Considering my luck in finding a hot young thing like you out here in the middle of bloody nowhere, I suppose it's this," Gerald said, and kissed Jack again.

Rather than speak, Jack squeezed the tube of sun block so that the creamy lotion spilled down onto their erections.

Gerald reached between them and wrapped his hand around both hard cocks as best he could. He grunted approval when Jack fumbled down to also curl his hand around them, providing more friction.

Then, he began thrusting, and he grinned when Jack shuddered against him and groaned loudly, his head falling back in his pleasure.

"Like that?" Gerald asked breathlessly as he moved, working his hips in smooth, easy strokes that slid his cock perfectly against Jack's.

"Oh, yeah," Jack said, an absolutely _filthy_ look of lust on his face. "Oh, fuck, yeah, do that some more…!"

Gerald did; fucking his cock in their shared grip and stroking Jack's erection with his motion.

"Quite certain you don't want it inside you?" he asked, his voice rough as his arousal heightened. He couldn't believe he'd found this easy, gorgeous piece of arse out on the open ocean! "I can make it good for you, Jack…"

"I bet you could," Jack muttered, his eyes closed as he concentrated on how good it felt to rub off against a perfect stranger. "Just… just do _this_, fuck, man, make me come…!"

Gerald bared his teeth as he began fucking harder and faster. He wished Jack had consented. God, he'd love nothing more than to be buried to the balls inside that pretty little white arse, but the boy had said _no_, damn it all.

Since he couldn't have that directly, he pressed closer against Jack as he thrust with short, sharp strokes. He muttered in the younger man's ear, detailing everything he'd have done if Jack had allowed him inside.

Jack groaned and shuddered, panting for air as he fantasized about a long, hard thick cock fucking in and out of him. He _wanted_ that; wanted it so bad.

But the man in his fantasy wasn't this pretty British stranger, but a dark and dangerous Chinese dragon-lord.

Angry, hurting and horny, Jack suddenly bucked wildly as he came, shrieking loudly.

"Fuck! Yes!" Gerald shouted, and his grip tightened even more. His hips snapped forward, fucking his cock against Jack's, feeling it throbbing as the younger man came all over them both.

He thrust hard once, twice, again, and then jerked forward sharply and gasped as if he were dying as his orgasm slammed into him. Blind with pleasure, he flailed and managed to grasp the bulkhead; his body the only thing holding Jack up as he thrust instinctively in the finishing throes of his climax.

They were both gasping for air, their legs shaking wildly. As soon as he felt it was safe to do so, Gerald let his knees buckle as slowly as he could so they could carefully set down on the floor.

He lay on the cool floor of the engine room with his eyes closed, feeling the boat's minor dip and sway in the subtle ocean current. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could hear his own pulse in his ears.

To his shock, he felt something warm and wet touch his prick. His eyes shot open and he looked down the length of his body with a surprised grunt to find Jack had taken his penis into his mouth.

Jack saw him watching and let Gerald's limp cock slip from his mouth. He quirked a grin at the older man.

"Figured the least I could do was clean you up, since I wouldn't let you fuck me," he said huskily.

Gerald, watching that sweet pink tongue slip out to lap delicately at the head of his cock, felt it was not his place to argue with Jack's surprisingly generous nature.

He lay back on the floor and grinned stupidly up at the ceiling above him as he felt his cock disappear into a warm, wet, succulent mouth.

* * *

Nana peered irritably at her grandson when he finally climbed back aboard _The Spice of Life_. Red hair was wildly askew, the pants were rumpled, and there were bruises marring Jack's white skin – specifically, his throat.

More to the point, he was sauntering toward her with a smirk that practically bellowed _I JUST GOT LAID!_

RJ 13 stepped up beside her as Jack stopped in front of his grandmother, who snorted at him and asked, "Have a good time, Our Jackie?"

"You could say that," Jack muttered with a perfectly filthy grin.

The thrum of engines starting up caught their attention and the three of them peered over the railing of their boat to Sir Gerald, who stood on his deck once more.

"Thanks for your help, Jack," the other man called with a wave. "I hope you're around again the next time I get stranded."

"I bet you do," Nana said, and pouted. "Why are all the pretty ones gay?"

Jack waved back to his brief sexual partner. Then, getting a wicked idea, he caught hold of RJ 13 and pulled his apparent twin closer for a long, deep kiss.

RJ 13 stiffened and started to push Jack away, but a quickly muttered order to submit had the robot sighing and standing still as Jack put on a show for Gerald.

On the deck of the smaller boat, Gerald shivered and stared at the pretty twins with lust.

"Tease!" he called out, but he said it with a smile.

Nana rolled her eyes and thumped away.

A few moments later, the kiss ended, and RJ 13 walked away; wiping his mouth and griping about the insanity of humans.

Sir Gerald went to the cockpit of his boat and put the vessel into motion, sailing smoothly away from Jack Spicer.

Jack watched him go with a pleased smirk.

* * *

From the outside, Chase didn't show much of a reaction.

He was a warrior; a fine one at that. He didn't let his behavior be ruled by his emotions, unlike some horny, ill-bred British gentry that rubbed off on perfect strangers they found floating in the middle of the damn ocean!

Chase sucked in a slow, deep breath.

So.

Jack was out having sex with strangers.

Well.

Wasn't that nice?

Nearly twenty feet away, an ancient vase of incalculable value suddenly shattered into a million pieces from the sheer force of anger sleeting off of the dragon lord.

Jack was rubbing off on pretty men he found stranded in the waters of the Pacific when he had _turned Chase down **flat**_.

The marble floor under Chase's sandals cracked.

Movement caught his eyes. The blazing golden orbs flew to the floppy form of JackBear, then looked up at the balcony above. A lion warrior gave him a look, then scuttled off to safety.

Mmm; the cat had a point.

Chase _was_ in the body of a child then, no matter how much his thoughts had desired sex. Jack liked men, not children. And _that_ was as it should be.

If the dragon lord had realized the unfairness of his actions earlier, it could be Chase rubbing against that perfectly white, pearly skin and Jack _must_ have been taking exercise, because he certainly didn't remember those lean muscles.

That didn't mean he had to let that paltry excuse for a lord go unpunished for daring to touch _his_ Jack.

Chase's hand flew towards the Eye Spy Orb. Black magic crackled between his digits.

After a long, long moment, Chase curled his hand back into a fist.

If he struck down the horny lord _now_, Jack would invariably pick the pitiful limey up and take him to safety. Chase didn't even have to imagine the lustful things the pair would get up to on the sail back to dry land.

Chase took another deep breath and centered himself.

When you let emotions take control, you made mistakes. He had very nearly made a gross error.

Never let it be said that Chase Young behaved rashly.

The Heylin dragon lord flicked a finger towards the Eye Spy Orb and cast a spell that would cause the engine of Sir Gerald's yacht to explode the moment Jack Spicer was 500 miles away.

That little item taken care of, Chase paused to consider the situation.

Jack Spicer, who had idolized him to the point of being insane, was now out in the world; young, rich, beautiful and randy.

This situation would have to be rectified.

* * *

"Nana, seriously? You've been stuck on that boat for _how_ long and you're not going to take the chance to party in Panama?" Jack asked.

The goth was dolled up for a night on the town: a form-fitting black shirt with red epaulettes and a matching red stripe down the sleeve. His black cargo pants were similarly adorned with red straps and lots of chrome decorations. The look was topped off with a leather collar.

RJ 13 was similarly ready to party, but for his clothing, the robot had chosen a simpler getup of a black button-down shirt, black leather slacks and a shining chrome necklace that he really wouldn't have bothered with except for the fact that his neck seam seemed way too obvious in a V-neck shirt.

"I'm serious, Our Jackie! They hunt down old Nazis in South America! What would you do if the authorities hunted down your dear old grandmother?" Nana protested.

"I'd say you were a crazy old bat and I'd never seen you before in my life," Jack stated calmly.

"Oh, you're a good boy to say that. You give me hope for Evil. But seriously! No; you went out this afternoon and restocked our supplies. I'll be just fine here."

"Suit yourself, Nana," Jack said, shrugging.

The albino youth went down the gangplank and walked up the dock towards town. _The Spice of Life_ had spent the day going through the locks of the Panama Canal. The sloop waited on the Atlantic side of the canal, ready to sail for fresh waters in the morning.

Tonight, Jack and RJ 13 wanted to live it up a little in the city of Colon before starting off in the morning. . . or maybe the day after; it would depend on how bad the hangover was.

The pair of seeming twin brothers caught a taxi downtown, then started casting around for likely party spots.

"I want to drink until I'm stupid, sweat off buckets and watch someone die of Ecstasy overdose on the dance floor!" Jack announced, eyeballing the clubs.

"_I_ want to get laid!" RJ 13 declared.

"You had a chance on Sir Gerald's boat," Jack said, giving him a sideways look.

"I'm not gay!" the robot declared.

"Technically, you aren't male," Spicer corrected. "So, if you aren't really male, you can't really be gay _or_ straight."

The pair fell into step along the sidewalk, ignoring the hawkers crying for their attention at the door to every club.

"I have a penis, so that makes me male," RoboJack 13 stated.

"You had penis _installed_," Jack stressed, giggling. "You're an after-market male. A _custom_ male.

"Still male," RJ 13 declared, winking at a group of girls that passed them.

"You can't actually reproduce—"

"I can reproduce," the robot stated. "I could make another robot."

_That_ one gave Jack pause.

"Well, _yeah_, but . . ."

"I could reproduce a lot more neatly than you organisms do; shooting your DNA at each other . . . . I find it offensive!" RJ 13 pointed his index finger at Jack and mimed pulling a trigger.

The mental image of men and women running naked through an old West town, the men firing shots of semen at dodging females, had Jack doubled over and howling with laughter.

"You're – you're sick in the head, you know that?" Spicer gasped.

"Hey, who's the one who figured out how to build a fully functional penis and install it on said robot? Eh?"

"I wanted to see if I could do it," Jack protested. "I wanted to see if I could make a robot able to feel physical pleasure; to make a replica of my favorite organ that would be sensitive enough to pressure and touch to – hey. How _do_ you have sex with a TV?"

RJ 13 gave him an odd look.

"Same way you'd have sex with _any_ appliance, duh."

Jack rubbed his temples.

"Okay, pretend I'm _not_ a sexually depraved android and explain it to me."

"Well, when a robot loves a piece of electronic equipment _very_ much –"

"RoboJack!"

"Look, I just use the electronic current in the TV or whatever to simulate tactile sensations and make it _feel_ like I'm having sex," RJ 13 stressed. "I like the real thing, but the Cheerbots are a bunch of stuck up bitches and you seriously need to install a vagina on at least one of them."

"So, for you, plugging into anything with a cord is just –"

"I'm electronically beating off."

"Ah."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"You could have had sex on the boat, you know," Jack said with a grin. "Sir Gerald –"

"Might have gotten a _wee_ bit suspicious about the fact that I don't have an anus," RJ 13 finished. "Or can't ejaculate _or_ sweat, or blush."

"Hey; I made you able to breathe and fuck; how much more do you want?"

"I have to keep my core well-ventilated or risk over-heating and I appreciate that I have human-like lungs for that. I also really appreciate my penis. I just want to try it out for real."

"That's what all guys want," Jack said with a grin. "And on that note, I'm going into this club."

The albino goth jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards a club pumping out techno music.

RJ 13 took a good look at the crowd thrashing and grinding on the dance floor.

"_I'm_ going to keep looking until I find a club with some women in it," the robot stated. "Call me if you need me."

"Will do!" Jack turned and jogged into the club and onto the dance floor, where he was instantly surrounded by admirers.

* * *

"Young people always go running off in all directions looking for fun. They don't know that fun can be had right at home," Nana Spicer announced sweetly.

She poured two glasses of finely aged whiskey and handed one to her guest.

"_Especially_ when you order out for a hooker!" She declared.

The handsome young man took the whiskey gratefully. The slight grimace on his face stated that he had to remind himself every few seconds exactly how much he was getting paid for this.

The escort belted back the alcohol and quickly went to pour himself another.

* * *

RoboJack Unit 13 reclined against a bar, ocean breezes tickling his gas chromatographers and gentle laughter and soft music filling his audio receptors.

Now _this_ was the life.

Why would you wear out your batteries and stress your audio and visual sensors in some dance club with the music deafening and the lights strobing when you could relax in a place like this; dark, rich wood furnishings, intelligent, well-heeled travelers and their often-ignored, lonely daughters and expensive drinks?

Most of the tourists would never find this lovely, secluded bar. RJ 13 certainly never would have found it just wandering around; he had gone wireless and done an internet search for 'places Earnest Hemmingway would drink'.

"Here you go, babe; a bottle of the finest," the bartender purred, setting down a bottle of ruinously expensive rum. Two glasses followed the bottle to the bar top.

"Who are you drinking with?" The well-endowed woman asked.

RJ 13 grinned at her – or at least, grinned at parts of her – and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"We'll see."

"Uh huh, well, I do have something you can wrap your lips around, Casanova," the lady stated.

As hope lit up in the robot's eyes, the bartender reached for a shelf beneath her and stuck a cigar in RJ 13's slack mouth.

"One free with every top-shelf bottle," she said grinning.

"Tease," the android called as she retreated to the other end of the bar.

"You need a light?"

RoboJack 13 looked over at the young woman addressing him.

She had been sitting at the third table from the back right corner with three other men old enough to be her father and judging by the skeletal and somatype similarities of the one on her immediate left, one of them actually was.

RJ 13 gave her a long, head to toe look.

She had pretty brown eyes, blonde hair, a trim figure, and metal screws from an old fracture on her left femur, an IUD birth control device in her uterus, and judging by the wear and tear on her right carpal bones, liked tennis.

RJ 13 gave her a smile.

"Maybe. Do you need a drink?" he offered, pouring the rum.

The woman turned up her nose slightly.

"It hasn't escaped my notice that this whole place is full of drink," she stated primly. "I could get my own if I wanted."

"It hasn't escaped my notice that there are cups of matchboxes every 1.96 feet along this bar," RJ 13 retorted. "I could get my own light if I wanted."

Another woman sitting nearby snorted out loud.

"He got you coming _and_ going, sweetie!" She announced. This woman was dark-skinned; a mix of African and local Caribe Indian, if RJ had to guess, with shining black hair in tiny micro-braids decorated with brightly colored beads.

"Here, don't waste good rum on Daddy's little girl," the black girl laughed, taking the free glass of rum and drinking it down.

"Cheers," RJ 13 said, mimicking her.

The blonde girl gave the newcomer a look hot enough to sear flesh and stepped up to RJ 13 with a lit Zippo. The robot quickly leaned in to light his cigar.

The black girl scooted over quickly to take the barstool on the android's immediate right. The blonde girl, not to be outdone, took the stool on his immediate left. As the two females glared heatedly at each other, RJ 13 raised his hand for the bartender's attention.

"Can I get another glass, please?"

The bartender laughed and shook her head at him, but as she turned to fetch him another glass, the android's eyes fell on the TV tucked into the corner of the bar. The television was set to the news. Currently it was showing a story about a devastating yacht explosion.

A very familiar yacht.

Out of habit of mimicking human behaviors, RJ 13 squinted at the set while he set his electronic eyes to 'zoom'. Just as he got a nice tight shot of the screen, the news flipped over to a picture of the one and only Sir Gerald, his portrait bearing the caption 'assumed dead'.

RoboJack Unit 13 arched an eyebrow even as he set a subordinate AI on pulling the recording from his memory banks and sending a copy to Master Jack.

"You know that guy?" The blonde asked.

"Sort of; he screwed my Ma - brother once," RJ 13 said. "He's the gay twin."

* * *

Why the fuck had he spent so much goddamn time on that whole Xiaolin/Heylin bullshit when he could have been doing this?

Jack had spent the last hour dancing in a throng of pumped, sweaty, hot, young men. Thanks to his near-non-stop training in the last three months, it had taken him that long to even get tired. When he took a break for a drink, a foxy Amer-Asian stud had followed him off the dance floor and was showing every interest in working him out in an entirely different way.

Holy shit; who knew all he needed to get laid was simply going out in public? This must be what it was like to be a chick!

Jack paused for a few gulps of water in between the sticky tropical drink Mr. Foxy had bought for him.

Just as the albino was toying with the idea of at least making out with his admirer in a corner somewhere, his phone vibrated for attention.

Jack frowned.

Did Nana need something? She knew he was out partying! Why would she call him? Was she that afraid of Nazi hunters? Oh . . . no, wait it was from RJ 13.

The message: 'When you love 'em and leave 'em, you don't mess around, Master' lit up his LCD screen. Jack's frown deepened as a video of a wrecked boat played across the small screen, culminating in Sir Gerald's picture.

The goth's features went slack with shock.

It was true, Sir Gerald had been a 'Johnny on the Spot' and the odds of them ever meeting again were slim to none, but he _had_ been Jack's first sexual experience with another person. You never forgot your first time.

After a moment, he regained enough composure to type: 'Wasn't me; I swear.'

"Hey, you okay, Snowflake? Bad news? You don't have to leave, do you? I thought we could get to know each other a little better," Mr. Foxy was saying.

"His _name_ is Jack Spicer," growled a familiar voice.

Jack's jaw dropped further open. He slowly turned, still not able to believe his eyes when he saw none other than Chase Young giving Mr. Foxy the evil eye.

"_Leave_," Chase snarled at the other man.

Some deep-down survival instinct told the amorous dancer that disobeying would be extremely unwise.

Jack shook himself, snorted softly, and locked eyes with Chase.


	3. Devil's Dance Floor

Jack Spicer stared hard at Chase, who stepped closer to the albino in an effort to be easily heard in the loud club.

Jack considered the phone in his hand.

"Your handiwork?!" he yelled, brandishing the object.

Chase arched an eyebrow as he took in the brief news clip.

"How did you leap to that conclusion?" He asked.

Even though the dragon lord only spoke instead of yelling like everyone else had to, Jack could hear him easily. It was probably some kind of magic, Jack mused. Trust Chase to circumvent the very laws of physics just to make himself look cool.

Fucking cheater.

"Well, considering the fact that you're _here_; that means you've been watching me, so you probably knew about the quick fumble I had with Sir Gerald _and_ I know you can throw a world-class tantrum. It's not a huge leap," Jack yelled.

Gold eyes widened.

Jack looked away and took a drink of his water. Subtly, as though he were only wiping a sweaty palm along his pants, Spicer stroked a few fingers along his belt and activated the personal force field that just _might_ keep him from getting murdered horribly.

Chase sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then forcibly relaxed. The warlord shifted his weight to one foot and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops in a deliberate attempt to look casual.

Jack looked around as the action bared a tiny sliver of Chase's stomach. The goth started as he realized Chase Young wasn't wearing his normal archaic armor, but trendy club wear.

A black tank top followed every bunch and curve of muscle in Chase's torso, but left his arms bare. Dark green cargo pants were belted around the warrior's trim waist with a black belt. The buckle was a shining metal version of the eye emblem on Chase's sash.

Chase saw Jack eyeballing his clothes and smirked.

"Do you like my attire, Spicer?" he purred.

"Looks a little bare," Jack said a tad hoarsely. "Could use some bling."

Chase looked down at his clothing. When he looked back up, the dragon lord had a black leather cord around his neck that was adorned with a charm in the shape of the kanji for 'dragon'. Black leather wristlets adorned both forearms.

"Better?" Chase asked with a grin.

'Fucking cheater,' Jack thought.

"What is it you want from me?" the goth inquired carefully.

Chase grinned and held out one hand.

"A dance?"

Jack Spicer considered the invitation for a long moment, and then switched off his force field.

"_Just_ a dance," he stated, taking Chase's hand.

"Hey . . . . what's wrong with your hand?"

RJ 13 looked over at one of his drinking companions. The blond girl, whose name was Cheyenne, was poking gingerly at his forearm.

"It's all hard . . . and there are these weird seams on your fingers," she observed.

"Oh, that's just because I'm a robot," RoboJack 13 said casually.

The black girl, whose name was Maria, grinned.

"A robot? Why would a robot drink rum?" she asked.

"I can burn the alcohol in my versatile belly and give my batteries a break," RJ 13 told her.

"Uh huh," Maria said, still grinning. "What's the cigar for?"

"It makes me look cool."

Cheyenne was still gently manipulating the android's left hand, testing the range of motion with an intensity only found in a certain stage of drunk.

"Cool prosthetic!" She declared. "How'd you lose your hand?"

"I didn't lose it," RJ 13 chuckled. "It's right there."

"No, I mean your real hand!"

"His other hand's like that too . . ." Maria observed.

There was silence as the two women slid their hands over RJ 13's body, testing it for normal human resilience. They could feel a chest cavity, but no ribs, soft flesh, but no veins or tendons, and a rock hard physique, but no muscles.

"You're really a robot?" Maria asked.

"Like . . . like . . like . . . that thing!" Cheyenne pointed to the TV at the end of the bar, which was showing the latest trend in robotic toy dogs. In this case, robotic toy dogs that had been programmed to play soccer.

RJ 13 considered the simplistic machines in silence as the two girls on either side of him continued to poke at his seams.

"When I consider things like that, I start to think that I don't like the word 'robot'," he announced quietly.

"You just said you were a robot," Maria observed.

"Ye-ah. But it would be like you saying you're a mammal. It's true, but it doesn't really tell the whole story, does it?" RJ 13 asked. "You're a young, upper-middle class Colombian woman of Afro-Caribe decent. The word robot means 'a machine that does human-like tasks on demand'. I do _way_ more than that. I can think on my own. I can make decisions; I can reprogram myself, I can even rearrange my physical composition to a limited amount, thanks to Master Jack's prototype nano bots. I can feel. I can fuck. I can feel like I need a fuck. Do you think that ASIMO retard can do that?"

"So, if she's a 'young, upper-middle class Colombian woman of Afro-Caribe decent', what would you be?" Cheyenne asked.

RoboJack Unit 13 considered this carefully.

"I'm a 'semi-autonomous, artificially intelligent, limited-nanofunction, human form mecha construct'," he declared.

"Kind of a mouthful," Maria opined, leaning against his shoulder. "What do we call you for short?"

"'Bad ass mecha'" RJ 13 told her.

Both girls giggled and snorted.

"So . . . . you said you can fuck . . . . are you anatomically correct?" Cheyenne asked, snaking a hand down to the front of his trousers. "Oh!"

"Answered your own question, did you?" the mechanoid asked with a filthy grin.

"We need to take this party back to my place," Maria stated. "You can even bring Daddy's Girl if you want. I have got to get me a piece of the world's first sex machine."

"Bad. Ass. Mecha," RJ 13 announced to no one in particular.

'I'm dancing with Chase Young,' Jack thought dreamily.

The albino youth didn't know how long they had been dancing; an hour? Maybe two? Jack was actually starting to tire. He had taken enough breaks with other dance partners to keep himself refreshed, but with Chase he was afraid to stop.

If he stopped, Chase might actually stop and talk to him.

The music pounded, the lights flashed and Chase Young, looking incredibly delectable in casual clothing, faded in and out of view like a sensual phantom. Some part of Jack's psyche squealed in delight and ran off on a fantasy.

'He's here; he's dancing with _me_ . . . he wants ME. Finally! I'll be like his right hand man and favorite toy and—'

'He only wants you because you've moved on,' said another, very blunt part of Jack's mind. 'You threw yourself at his feet for four years straight, served him, protected him and he treated you like garbage and ignored you. He only wants you now because your attention has been drawn elsewhere.'

The fanboy part of Jack's mind wanted to deny it. He wanted to scream that it wasn't true; Chase was here! Chase was with him!

But _why_ was Chase with him? Because Jack had dared to get fed up with the dragon lord's abuse and derision. Because Jack had tasted sexual pleasure with someone else. Because Jack was starting to respect himself.

Nothing says 'violent psycho' like the sweet sentiment of 'I don't want you, but no one else can have you either.'

'Wow,' Jack thought. 'Chase is seriously screwed up in the head.'

"I think I just got over something," the young genius muttered to himself.

Chase leaned in and nuzzled Jack's ear.

Jack suddenly felt very sad.

Just when he was maturing, growing up, and getting strong in his own right, Chase had to come along and tempt him.

Jack _could_ go running back to the warlord. He _could_ throw away all that he had achieved so far. He _could_ give up his chance to be independently wealthy for a chance to sit at Chase's feet until the warlord grew bored with him and tossed him aside for the newest flavor of the month.

He _could_.

But fuck that.

Chase nuzzled his ear again, snaking out a very hot tongue to lap gently at Jack's lobe.

Jack Spicer drove his elbow into the warlord's chest.

It couldn't have truly hurt the ancient warrior; even with Jack's newfound fitness it should have done nothing more than illustrate the fact that the young albino did not appreciate Chase getting fresh.

The rush of breath that the dragon lord spluttered out had to be more from shock than pain, but he staggered back a step; golden eyes wide.

"I said a _dance_, not a fondle!" Jack admonished. "Behave yourself!"

Chase Young gaped at his dance partner. Though he would never admit it in a million years, some tiny remnant of Little Chase felt like scuffing his shoes and mumbling an apology. A much larger part of Chase's psyche demanded that he rip Jack Spicer limb from limb for daring to strike him.

He settled on glowering at the youth with such anger that the whimpering youth should have wet his pants out of sheer terror.

Jack glanced away for a second, wiping his arm across his chin. The redhead's other arm went to his belt and Chase detected a subtle change in pressure.

Jack had activated a weapon?

Jack was prepared to fight _him_?

"You _insect_," the dragon growled. "You _dare_ refuse me?! You should be honored I give so much as a bored glance to you, much less an hour-long dance and attempt a sweet seduction!! You are considered a freak by normal human society! You think you'll find better than _ME_?! You worthless—"

"Do you have any idea how much of an abusive husband you sound like?" Jack asked coldly.

Chase's jaw sagged open, and then shut with a snap.

"'You're so ugly, no other man in the world will want you; that's why you should stay here and put up with my shit!' Fuck, Chase, you sound like my dad."

Part of Jack was pleased to see Chase flinch in distaste at the mention of Mr. Spicer.

"Don't deny yourself, Spicer! You want me, I kn—"

"I want you," Jack admitted freely. "I'm man enough to admit it; I do want you, Chase. But I _NEED_ you like I need a hole in the fucking head. You're so fucking hazardous for my health you oughta come with a Surgeon General's warning."

Chase look of utter shock was almost comical. Jack truly wished he had brought a camera.

"I'm not some little Goth boy that still runs to your beck and call and idolizes you, Chase Young. You've taught me _more_ than a few things about being evil. I'll know never to trust you again, that's for damn sure. But I'm taking my talent for destruction and mayhem on the road. Fighting for magical toys is what little boys do; young _men_ use their genius to grab them some fat cash! So thanks for the passing attention, call me when you get some therapy. I'm gonna dance with this Lenny Kravitz look-like now."

Jack backed towards a handsome young black man, but was extremely leery of turning his back on Chase Young.

After all; what had happened to the last person to dump the Heylin Dragon Lord?

"Very well."

Spicer stopped, turning back towards the ancient warrior.

"W-what?"

"I said 'Very well'," Chase announced smoothly. "You have made your point, young Master Spicer; you are a grown man and not a child I can bully into fulfilling my wishes. You don't need me. And you certainly don't need my help in any way, shape or form."

Jack started to get a creeping feeling up his spine; a feeling that said, in the most eloquent language available: 'UH-OH.'

"Yeeee-eeeees," he agreed after a long pause.

"I can respect that; you want your autonomy and I am more than happy to give it to you. I shall not press my unwanted attention or assistance on you again," Chase said pleasantly.

Jack did a quick check for the telltale red dots of a laser scope on his chest. Something was up, that was for damn sure.

"Thank you . . ." he said, obviously waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"That being said, enjoy your new playmates."

"Playma—"

"THAT'S HIM!"

Jack jerked around to see the crowd in the club parting. The music stopped. The lights went up. Standing at the other end of the dance floor was none other than Sir Gerald.

The British playboy looked a little worse for wear; bruises and contusions marred his handsome face and he was sunburned ferociously, as if he'd been out on the water with no protection for a long while.

Jack brightened.

"Gerald! You're ali—"

"That's the man that sabotaged my yacht! Arrest him!" Gerald roared.

For the first time Jack noticed the whole squad of Colombian police officers arrayed behind the battered lord.

"S-sabotage? Me?!" Jack squeaked.

"Since you're such a big, strong man now, Mr. Spicer, I'll leave you to it," Chase said with a nasty grin.

"You sonofabitch!!!"

When Officers Alondra Ramirez and Citali Xochitl first responded to a noise complaint, they were expecting a party that had the music up too loud. By the time they had actually reached the residence, additional calls had come in reporting domestic violence, screaming, and the possible rape of more than one woman.

The two female officers made their way to the front door leery of what might be going on inside. Thanks to the open windows, they had a bird's ear view of the conversation taking place inside.

"No, no more! I can't take it! I can't take any more!" Gasped a woman's voice, sounding desperate and even a little frightened.

"Oh, okay," came a male voice that was almost apologetic. "That's fine; you need a rest. Do you want something to drink? You're probably a little dehydrated now . . ."

"No . . no, no, I gotta go . . ." the woman whimpered.

"Are you sure, Cheyenne?" the man asked. "You look a little worse for wear. I'm sure Maria won't mind if you crash here . . ."

"No . . ." Cheyenne moaned. "Gotta go . . ."

"Look, I'll wake her up and ask her. Maria?"

"Nnnoooooo," a second woman's voice groaned. "No more!"

Officers Alondra and Citali exchanged a look.

"Well at least let me give you a ride," the man said. "I'd feel bad if you didn't get home safe because of me."

"No, no, I'm leaving!" Cheyenne wailed, bursting through the front door and fleeing down the sidewalk.

"I could call you a cab!" the man offered, coming out onto the front step.

The two female officers were treated to the sight of a very young man with startling white skin, red hair and a tattoo on his face and chest. He was rather handsome in a lean, youthful way.

RJ 13 sighed, staring down the sidewalk after his fleeing sex partner.

"Geez, it's not like I forced her," he mumbled to himself.

The android seemed to notice the two officers for the first time. He gave first one, then the other female a long, head to toe look.

"Hi," he said with a big smile.

Alondra was forced to hide her smile under a head-duck and tug of her cap.

"We've had complaints of noise," Citali said sternly.

"I know," RJ 13 said guilelessly. "I _told_ Maria she had to quit screaming or she was going to lose her voice, but she didn't listen to me."

"That one was Cheyenne, right? How many women do you have in there?" Alondra asked.

"Well if I can coax you two beautiful ladies inside, it'll be two more," he said with a grin, backing up into the apartment once more.

Alondra and Citali exchanged a look and went in after the albino Lethario, fully planning to make this lustful youth show a bit more respect.

As the young man went from the dark of the stoop to the lighted apartment, Alondra couldn't help noticing there was something odd about his joints . . .

"Fuckity fuck fuck, fuckity fuck fuck, look at Frosty go!" Jack howled nonsensically as he charged headlong through the crowd

Dancers yelped and ducked out of the way of what they perceived to be a very dangerous man.

"Careful of the crowd! Don't fire!" the police chief bellowed. "Just take him down!"

"Careful!" Sir Gerald cried. "He knows kung fu!"

A handful of officers already starting after Jack hesitated, and then charged forward, hoping to take the albino youth in a blind rush.

"I can't believe I sucked that guy's dick!" Jack growled to himself in disgust as he darted in between upright sections of chain link fence that supported the sound system.

Three cops followed him into the narrow passageway and Jack could see five more starting in at the other end, ready to catch him in a pincher movement. It seemed a bit overkill, really. This passage was so narrow it was all Jack could do to run through it. You could practically . . . .

Without really thinking about what he was doing, Jack lifted his foot for the next stride, but instead of planting it on the floor, he jammed the treads of his bondage boots into the chain link and kicked up. The next step he was able to jam the other foot into the opposite panel of chain link and kick himself higher. As the cop gawked, their quarry _ran_ up the chain link panels, grasped the bottom of the access catwalk a full story above the dance floor and flip himself over it as neatly as if the whole stunt had been choreographed.

A few people on the dance floor burst into applause.

Tucked into a recessed corner, nearly invisible in the darkness, a sculpted eyebrow rose. Chase had assumed Jack had been exercising because of the new muscles he had seen in the Eye Spy Orb. The dragonlord hadn't been aware that the youth had been _training._

It was blatantly obvious to his expert eyes; the way Jack held himself and the poses his lithe form twisted into. It practically screamed 'Monkey Style Kung Fu'. Jack was trying to turn himself into a warrior.

Jack ran easily along the access catwalk. It was actually a little wider than the rigging up to the main mast on _The Spice of Life_and it wasn't heaving and swaying like a horse at full gallop while gale force winds tried to tear him off.

It was kind of . . . . easy.

Before Spicer could get cocky about the whole thing, he hopped the rail onto the actual balcony that looked down onto the dance floor and darted for the back stairs. At least six police officers were charging up it. Again, Jack didn't think about what he was doing. He only thought about what he'd done when RJ 13 had surprised him when he was running to the stairs to go below.

So he did the same thing.

The sergeant in the front of the throng choked on a shout as one hundred and thirty-five pounds of albino charged to the head of the stairs and leaped off, launching himself towards his would-be captors knees first. Jack landed full force on some poor bastard's chest, knocking him back and probably breaking something by the strangled scream the man gave out. The rest of the officers were knocked aside like bowling pins. While they lay sprawled and groaning, Jack clambered over them and ran down the stairs again.

In the shadows, Chase seethed.

Jack was supposed to have grown just enough to pique the dragon-lord's interest, but not without losing that desperate neediness that made Chase so superior. Jack was simply supposed to be not embarrassing, not . . . not . . . not _hot._

Jack doubled back, leapt over a few more railings, darted up and down catwalks like a lithe, sexy warrior. A monkey-warrior, maybe, but seeing Spicer launch himself at his opponents and take down six of them in one beautifully executed move was making Chase's loins tingle.

A shot rang out.

One of the policemen had decided to gamble with shooting Spicer while he was above the crowd. The albino youth was a glowing target up in the rafters at this point, heading towards a hatch leading to the roof. The officer's aim was true.

However.

The bullet richoted off of something on Spicer's person -- his metallic belt perhaps, or the myriad of chains on his pants -- and hit one of the club goers on the dance floor below. Screams started up from the crowd and the men heaved and pushed against the police officers trying to catch Spicer.

Only Chase, with his supernatural sense, had seen what truly happened.

The bullet turned aside _before_ it hit Spicer.

There had been a green flash just as it turned, as though it had hit something. Was this the weapon Jack had activated when anticipating an attack from Chase? A -- Oh what was the modern word? -- a force field?

As the throng below descended into a teeming riot, Jack reached the access hatch and shimmied through it into the night.

~*~*~*~*~

"RJ 13!! We've got trouble!" the albino youth cried. He was taking the opportunity of the ensuing chaos in the club to slip away among the tourists. For the moment it was working, because the police were apparently more concerned about the riot spilling out into the streets than one little albino that was accused of sabotage.

Fucking _Chase Young_!

Creepy stalker prick! Being impossibly hot did not excuse him from fucking around with Jack's life! If it hadn't been for the dragon lord's little tantrum, Jack could have been pleasantly drunk and getting his dick sucked even now! Not running for his life!

Although . . . Jack had run for his life plenty of times. This time felt different. Instead of equal parts fear and adrenaline moving him forward, it was almost all adrenaline, a tiny drop of fear, and a skirl of . . . . . thrill. He had just outsmarted the _COPS!_ He was hardcore!

But . . . he should probably get safely back into international waters before he celebrated.

"RJ 13? I know you're there; the phone is built into your head!"

"Y-Yes, Master Jack?" The robot panted.

"We need to get back to the boat! Sir Gerald survived and he thinks I sabotaged his damn ship! The cops are after me and - why are you breathing heavy?"

"My central core is very hot," RJ 13 answered. "Smug mode engaged."

Jack paused.

"I don't want to hear it," the albino decided. "Maybe later. And stop watching _Red Dwarf_ reruns."

"Awwwww, Kryten's the bomb!" RJ 13 whined.

"Later! Get back to the boat and avoid being seen by the cops!"

"Whoops."

"What now?!" Jack sighed, ducking behind a vendor's cart as a police car tore past, siren wailing.

"I'm in bed with two of them."

There was a long pause.

"I think Alondra's asleep now, though. I could probably sneak out without her noticing."

"I - I don't - whatever, just get back to the ship," Jack growled.

"Yes, Master"

Jack growled wordlessly and hung up, more than a little irritated that his robot had gotten laid while he hadn't.

Fucking _Young!_

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

As it turned out, Alondra was sleep, so RJ 13 carefully picked up his clothing and tiptoed out of the bedroom, picking his way over Maria and . . . . the other police officer whose name he had totally forgotten. Crap; he needed to replace some fuses.

The android made his way into the front room and dressed quietly, leaving his shirt unbuttoned so he could open up his chest cavity. A wave of heat rolled out into the room when the robot's pectorals swung outwards.

"Phew; my core **is** hot," RJ 13 murmured to himself. "I'll have to tone it down next time."

Humming to himself, RoboJack Unit 13 pulled a box of spare fuses out of his pants pocket and started to replace the ones he had burned out sexing four women into the ground.

"Smug mode," he muttered with a filthy grin, heedless of Master Jack's order. "He can bitch when I start carrying spare heads around."

Wallowing in his own twisted sense of accomplishment, the robot never noticed the police radio in the next room crackle to life. Despite her utter exhaustion, Alondra picked it up.

Phew, his core _was_ hot. RJ 13 headed back into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator, letting the cold air hit his bare circuits. Mmmmmm, that felt good. He'd stay here for a minute before heading back to the docks.

"Freeze."

RJ 13 paused, bent over behind the fridge door with his inner workings bared to the breeze.

"I'm just trying to cool down a _little_," he corrected.

"Ha ha," Alondra growled. "Straighten up, turn around and put your hands on your head."

RJ 13 peered over the fridge door. The female police officer had her pants and undershirt on and was holding her sidearm on him. She held a pair of handcuffs in her other hand.

"Is this because I didn't stay to cuddle?" RJ 13 asked.

Alondra's mouth tightened.

Word just came across the radio that a red-haired albino is wanted in conjunction with the attempted assassination of a member of British gentry. So turn around, lover boy."

"I think this is a good time to mention my twin brother," RJ 13 said, still hunkered down behind fridge door.

"That was on the APB, too. You're _both_ going to be held for questioning. Stand! Up!"

Reluctantly, RJ 13 did so, pectoral doors still swinging in the breeze. The woman's dark eyes widened. In the moment she was distracted, the android darted forward, seized her wrist and forced her arm up. Alondra fired three shots into the ceiling in the time it took for RJ 13 to pluck the handcuffs from her wrist, disarm her, eject the gun's clip, and handcuff her arms behind her back.

Some days it was good to be a kung fu master.

Alondra screeched profanities in Spanish as RJ 13 laid her carefully onto the small couch in the front room.

"Sorry, but I really have to go now. You were great, though," the robot said, though she weren't trying to kick him in the balls.

RJ 13 pushed his chest cabinet closed and buttoned up his shirt. He went to the door and stepped outside.

Into a circle of police officers.

"Well, hell," the robot sighed.

Jack peered around a corner. There were cops stationed at the entrance to the docks. They were checking IDs, but Jack noticed they didn't seem all that keen on the activity; it looked as though they just had their eyes open for any red-haired albinos that might happen by.

Fuck.

Jack might have some burgeoning mad ninja skillz, but he wasn't so keen to take on four armed cops all by his lonesome. Hmmm. Maybe he could call Nana and have her lob a hand grenade onto a neighboring yacht. That would probably distract them. Of course, he had already _tried_ to call Nana and received no answer. Somehow, he really couldn't see Frederrika 'Hatpin' Spicer going quietly into police custody, even at the tender age of eighty-two.

If they had taken Nana, there would be more blood and explosions.

So, Master of the Leapt-To Conclusions Sir Gerald probably hadn't remembered the name of the sloop that had aided him. The cops hadn't been able to go to _The Spice of Life_ and arrest Nana because they didn't know where she was. Goddamn, Jack could _see_ his ship from here; he just had to find a way to get to it. Damn it, if only there were some way he could get past them without being seen.

Slumping back against the wall, he heard a dull thunk followed by a ragged scraping sound. Looking down, he saw it was his personal force field projector that had made the sound when coming in contact with the wall.

As he looked at it, his brain began running computations for him. _Mathematical_ computations. He'd have to adjust the electromagnetic density to keep himself from slipping under, but if he fine-tuned it _just right_...

He'd be pulling a Jesus in no time; walking away over the water to his own personal miracle: a bloodless escape.

Just a few minutes later, Jack was charging across the road, heading in the general direction of his ship. It seemed to be working; the force field was spinning around him like a giant hamster ball and it looked like –

"You! Stop!"

Great; the cops were onto him. He just had to keep going and hope like hell this actually worked! The force field hit the curb in the road and bounced. Jack crashed forward against the wall of energy and flipped over the sea wall willy-nilly before flopping into the water with a terrific splash. For a moment he bobbed, disoriented. Jack lay flat on his back, staring up at the evening sky.

Shouts brought him back to awareness. Jack flipped forward onto his feet, then faceplanted as the force field encountered almost no resistance in the water and spun crazily.

The albino youth tried to run again, but ended up doing something more like very silly scrambling on all fours until the force bubble began to move. It went slowly at first, then began to gain momentum.

He could hear more shouts; from above and from far ahead. A motor revved nearby and a small boat bearing three officers careened towards Jack.

"Awwwww, shit! This is going to end one of two ways . . ."

The bow of the boat hit the force bubble and sent the field bouncing far up above the water.

"I was afraid it would be this oooooooooooooone!" Jack howled.

Arms and legs flailing, Spicer caromed through the air, crashed full force into the boards of the dock (no padding inside of a force field) and spun end over end as the force bubble continued its forward hurtle.

It only stopped when a familiar black clad figure opened his arms and grabbed the bubble with a force no human could muster.

"Hi Master!" RJ 13 chirped. "The cops are shooting at me."

Jack slammed against the front of the force field.

"I know," he groaned. "They're shooting at me, too."

"What should we do about it, Master?"

"We gotta get back to the ship and get out of here. I don't have the time or patience to deal with these Third World wannabes," Jack growled.

"All right, Master!" Before Jack could protest, the robot hefted the force field – Jack included – over his head and hurled it in the general direction of _The Spice of Life_.

A long, high-pitched scream followed the albino's course over the other docked watercraft. The android's aim was true and Jack's force bubble crashed through the door to the cabin of _The Spice of Life_.

Rather – it crashed half-way through.

The bubble stuck firmly in the middle of the doorway, slamming Jack against the shield one last time before he slumped into a bruised pile of albino.

"That's it . . . . once I get another JackBot handy, I'm turning him into a juicer . . ." he wheezed.

Jack fumbled for the controls of his force field and deactivated it, sending himself crashing to the stairs leading down into the cabin.

RJ 13 was at the bow of the sloop, throwing off mooring lines as police officers converged on the slip.

"Nana?!" Jack called, staggering upright. "Nana, we're leaving!"

The youth paused by the door to his grandmother's cabin and yanked it open.

"Nana, we gotta – OH GAWWWWD!"

Jack reeled away from the door clutching his stomach and dry-heaving.

"Our Jackie! Learn to knock!" Nana Spicer ordered.

Jack gagged loudly from his spot on the floor.

"Th-the Nazi hunters are here, Nana!" he yelled. "We're leaving!"

Not really wanting to discuss or even think about what he had just seen, the tech genius scuttled for the helm.

"RJ 13! Get your mainframe down here! We need to get this ship ready to fly!"

Jack leapt into the captain's chair, started the engines and threw them into reverse. _The Spice of Life_ lurched away from the dock, scraping roughly against the side as Jack turned the ship prematurely. Throwing the engines into forward gear, the young albino headed for open water just as fast as possible. Police boats were heading towards them even now.

RJ 13 loped up from the rear of the ship, nearly colliding with a mostly-naked young man that was forcibly ejected from Nana Spicer's cabin.

The young man was babbling excitedly in rapid-fire Spanish. RJ 13 listened to him for a moment.

"Master? This man says someone owes him $1,000 for fucking your grandmother," RJ 13 relayed.

Jack visibly shuddered.

"Throw him out the goddamn window!"

"You heard Master Jack," the robot said.

RJ 13 grabbed the unfortunate hooker and heaved him out of the nearest window. The naked man overshot the deck entirely and splashed into the cool water of the Caribbean Sea. Unnoticed by anyone, the 'glass' of the window slowly knit itself back together, thanks to Master Jack's prototype nano bots.

"Get up here and get jacked in!" Jack ordered. "We need your processing power to get airborne!"

RJ 13 leapt into the navigator's chair. Two specially designed sockets plugged into the base of the robot's skull and the android simply went limp.

"Airborne?" Nana had emerged from her cabin, (thankfully) swaddled in a silk robe. "You don't mean really airborne, do you, Our Jackie?"

"Yes, we shouldn't travel that way for long; it puts too much stress on the mast."

Jack flipped open a panel and turned a switch. Hidden engines roared to life. The occupants of _The Spice of Life_ couldn't see the changes, but the police approaching on speedboats were astounded to see the masts extend, branch off and grow, extra sails that shone silver in the sunlight rippling open and filling with the strong breeze.

In the failing light, _The Spice of Life_ blossomed like an origami flower.

Standing on a high building, Chase Young watched as jet engines emerged from the side of the vessel. The hidden engines cranked again and the mast tilted forward to lift the ship instead of pull it along the water.

"A flying ship. Hmmmm; you grow more interesting by the moment, Spicer." The dragon lord's eyes widened. "Though you will have to beg most prettily to get back into my good graces!" He snarled.

The engines roared to life and the sleek ship took off into the skies.

Chase Young snarled at his own frustrations and disappeared.


	4. Swagger

"Do it."

"Nana . . ."

"You did very well in Colon. But you have to go further to be true evil."

"But Nana . . ."

A heavy revolver was pressed into Jack's hand. He inspected it briefly, wondering how his elderly grandmother fired a .45 caliber weapon without being knocked over by the recoil.

"Kill him, Jackie," Nana Spicer ordered.

One gnarled finger leapt out to point at RJ 13, working diligently on the bow.

"But _Nana_ . . ."

"Oh fine, I know he's not really alive! Shoot him in the head!"

"But—"

"_Jackson Albert Spicer!_"

"Oh goddamn it!" Jack snarled.

He hefted the heavy weapon in one hand and squeezed off three shots. The first missed entirely, the second clipped RoboJack 13's neck and the third caught the android right between the eyes as he spun towards his attacker.

The robot's limbs flailed briefly until he fell full-length across the deck.

"Happy?" Jack inquired.

"Your first shot missed," Nana Spicer announced coldly.

"G-GODDAMN IT! STOP DOING THAT!"

"It just pisses him off," Jack pointed out.

RJ 13 struggled back to his feet, rubbing desperately between his eyes.

"RIGHT BETWEEN THE FUCKING EYES! AWWWWW, DAMN IT, IT LEFT A DENT!"

"It's still good practice," Nana Spicer said lightly. "It takes a lot of practice to get over the natural aversion against killing someone. By the time you get around to actually doing it, the action itself should be automatic."

Jack considered this.

"It takes three thousand repetitions to make an action automatic. How many times have I shot RJ 13?"

"TWENTY – FUCKING – SIX!" RJ 13 howled. "And I'm dumping the ammunition overboard!"

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes, then handed the gun back to his grandmother.

"I have to go reinforce my robot."

Chase Young glared molten death at the black teddy bear sitting on his throne.

His warriors had not been privy to the events in Panama; they still kept depositing Jack Bear around the palace pointedly.

"I saw that wretched brat Spicer!" Chase roared. "He wanted nothing to do with me! I owe him _nothing!_"

Silence greeted this declaration. It wasn't the silence of no one replying, but the silence of a lot of someones pointedly not saying anything. The difference is hard to explain, but very tangible.

Chase strode forward, snatched Jack Bear from the pink-upholstered throne and hurled it across the room. Then he flopped down on his seat, crossed his arms across his chest and _sulked_.

Chase Young wasn't going to be stubborn and insist he wasn't sulking when he obviously was. Being evil meant you were allowed to let all your emotions have free reign, even the shallow, petty ones.

It wasn't _fair_. Jack Spicer had been so underfoot for the last four years he was officially listed as a tripping hazard on the scroll of Heylin for this generation. He may have been a tripping hazard, but he was _Chase's_ tripping hazard. Whenever the dragon lord was feeling bored or down, he could show up at Spicer's Evil Lair and have his boots licked.

Without thinking on what he was doing, Chase extended his will and brought Jack Bear back to him. The dragon lord hugged the lethal toy and sulked harder.

It was like . . . it was like having a loyal dog that adored you no matter how hard you kicked it. After kicking it from pillar to post for years, you suddenly went to pet the thing and it sank its fangs into your arm. It was like watching Lassie maul Timmy; the world just wasn't supposed to work that way.

You had the top villain who was completely evil, untouchable and cool and you had his minion, who was almost always a pathetic jackass. You wondered why such a supreme warrior kept such a loser around. It was so the top villain could see _just how far he'd come_.

The pathetic jackass was walking, talking evidence of the top villain's superiority.

Having Jack walk away from him without a backwards glance was like Dr. Frankenstein going down to the lab for a hard night of chopping up corpses only to find that Igor had turned the place into a functional cryogenics lab and had his hump removed.

It simply wasn't _fair_.

"It's just rude," RJ 13 pointed out.

"It's practice and you can shrug it off," Jack sighed. "I'm reinforcing your casing so that it won't dent anymore."

"Can you re-do my face so that I look like you again?"

Jack paused, looking up from the face of his robot into the face of his robot. RJ 13 was sitting in the modified closet that charged his batteries and ran routine checks of his software. Currently, the smooth white features that usually hid the android's inner workings were resting in Jack's hands, getting reinforced. The shockingly skull-like inner workings of RJ 13's face were bare.

"What do you mean 'So you look like me again?'" Jack asked.

"You've changed, Master," RJ 13 pointed out. "You've matured and not just mentally. You've been exercising a great deal and have lost weight and put on muscle. Your face is much leaner and more adult. I want to look like you do."

Jack stared at RJ 13 like he'd never seen him before. He stared at the 'mask' in his hands, then rubbed a thoughtful hand over his own cheek.

"Really? I'm . . I mean . .. I don't—"

"You hardly ever look in a mirror anymore, Master. The last time you even wore your eyeliner was in Panama."

"I sweat when I work out and it smears . . . . hang on!"

Jack stood and loped to the head. He wrenched open the door and stared at his face in the small mirror, holding up the mask of RJ 13's face beside his own for comparison. His face was still his face, but RJ 13 was right; it was a bit leaner. His cheekbones were more prominent, his jaw seemed more squared; his was the face of a man, not a boy.

"Well Jesus; no wonder all those guys wanted to do me."

"So can I have a face like yours, Master?" RJ 13 asked.

Jack walked back into the shipboard lab, looking thoughtfully at the mask in his hands.

"Not right away. I'll have to re-scan my own face and – are we still the same height?"

"You're now six centimeters taller than I am, Master."

"I guess that's not too much, but . . . .hmmm. Maybe I'll just start over from—" Jack was cut off by the over-dramatic gasp RJ 13 let out.

"—From scratch? You'd make me a brand-new body?"

"Well . . . my requirements for a robot companion have changed a bit from when I built you. I think I can make you sturdy enough to play rough without the failsafe breakaways in your limbs. Those were always kind of annoying . . . I could beta my nanobots on your skin, maybe lose the seams at the joints . . ."

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Hang on!" RJ 13 scrambled out of his charging closet, shedding cables and cords.

"Don't just yank those out; it screws up the cables!" Jack yelled after him.

The robot ignored him, running back to the separate closet when he kept his few personal possessions. He came back in a moment and handed Jack a graphic novel.

The young genius snorted.

"'Livewires: Clockwork Thugs, Yo!'?"

"Represent, my mecha!" RJ 13 growled, holding up his fist.

"Retardicon," Jack muttered, flipping through the graphic novel. "I take it from the over-enthusiastic reaction that you'd like some of the same things the robots in this have?"

"'Human-form mecha construct,'" RJ 13 corrected.

"Is _this _where you got that whole 'robot is a bad word thing' from?"

"Well, not entirely," the android muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just got tired of sharing it with toy dogs and cartoonish-looking primitives made by car companies who I shall not name."

Jack snorted at the rough reference.

"I guess I can understand that. I'll take at look at your Clockwork Thugs and see if anything inspires. Here's your face back in the meantime."

RJ 13 took the white mask back from his maker and fitted it back into place, then tripped away squealing 'Yay, new body, new body!'

The next weeks blended into a comfortable routine: Jack would awaken, grab a quick breakfast, train with RJ 13 for three hours, eat lunch over the skeletal beginnings of the android's new body, work on the software and schematics for several hours, break for another hour of training with RJ 13, have a leisurely supper, then train on gun kata with Nana and various targets until nightfall.

At that point, he might have a few beers and play video games or just lay on the bow of _The Spice of Life_ and look up at the stars before grabbing a quick shower and off to bed.

Keeping busy kept his mind off of the events in Colon, badass though some of them had been. He had outsmarted the cops: _hardcore!_ But there was also the little matter of Sir Gerald thinking Jack had tried to kill him, not to mention the fact that Chase Young appeared to have finally Gone Weird.

Jack had the slight impression that a member of British gentry might not take an attempted assassination lightly. It was entirely possible that was going to come back to haunt him in a seriously costly and/or damaging way.

And it was all Chase's fault.

Chase . . . . wow, where to start?

Not a word from the dragon lord for over three months, then _wham!_ He shows up out of the blue, blows up Sir Gerald's yacht, attempts a heavy-handed seduction, then tosses Jack to the wolves – metaphorically speaking – and disappears again.

Jack knew he should be wondering what intricate and convoluted plan this was leading up to, but really, all he could think was: _Jesus, what a headcase!_

If he tried to figure out what to do about any of it, he ended up giving himself a headache, so he simply focused on his kung fu, gun skills, and making RJ 13 version 2.0. To avoid migraines, he avoided thinking about it.

What he also did not do was watch the news, which may have been an oversight on his part.

He might have been a tad more prepared for what happened in Europe.

First stop was the Port of Cadiz in Spain, just north of the Strait of Gibraltar. Jack supposed they _could_ have sailed right up to the Strait and on to Italy, but it had been a long trip, the Straits were crowded as hell and he was ready to transfer RJ 13 into his new hardware.

Jack wanted to fix his robot, go out for a nice dinner and turn in early.

"I must be getting old," the albino youth muttered to himself, elbow deep in RJ 13 2.0.

Jack paused in his tinkering.

"HEY NANA?" He bellowed at the ceiling. "WHEN'S MY BIRTHDAY?"

"IT WAS THREE WEEKS AGO!" Nana yelled back after a moment.

Three weeks ago? He had turned eighteen and hadn't even noticed? That sucked!

"WHAT DID YOU GET ME?" Jack demanded.

"A wonderfully crafted new suit, a night out in a very nice restaurant, and a treasured family heirloom," Nana reported, making her way down the spiral staircase that led to Jack's lab.

"You lying old whore," Jack chuckled. "But while we're here . . . we . . . . should . . ."

Jack trailed off as he saw Nana holding up a garment bag.

"I called ahead to a tailor in the city and gave them your measurements," Nana Spicer stated calmly. "And we have reservations for three in the Alameda Room at the _Restaurante Balandro_ in three hours. Finish up your robot, then get cleaned up and we'll go celebrate your birthday."

Jack blinked stupidly at his grandmother for a moment, then pulled the zipper down on the garment bag and inspected the jet-black suit inside.

"My old clothes are getting kind of tight," he announced worriedly. "It might not fit."

"These are your new measurements," Nana stated calmly. "The ones you took for that thing."

She gestured at RJ 13 v2.0.

"You . . . you figured out how to access those files?"

"I did it for her!" RJ 13 announced from his charging closet. "You're welcome. Now less talky, more finish up my new body-ee."

"You gave her . . . . _all_ of those measurements?" Jack inquired weakly.

"Oh, I changed your diapers!" Nana announced, hanging the garment bag on a nearby cabinet. "It's not like I've never seen a prick before."

Jack sagged against the table that RJ 13's new body lay on, shuddering at the sheer level of _wrong_ permeating the room.

"Jesus, Nana . . . ." he gasped.

"Not bad, though," she continued.

Jack collapsed against RJ 13 v2.0's chest, feeling a blush burn across his face. Dear God, Nana Spicer could probably make Paris Hilton a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, listen to you! You think your generation invented sex?" Jack's grandmother '_tsk'_ed.

"Nana, I –"

Jack cut off sharply at the sight of Nana lifting up the dustcover that was currently draped over RJ 13 2.0's genitals.

"_NA-__**NA**_!" Jack howled, slapping it back down.

"Just checking to see if you made any . . . modifications," Frederrika Spicer stated blithely.

"_**GET OUT!**_" Jack shrieked, his face nearly as red as his hair.

Nana turned her nose up primly, but started for the staircase.

"Just remember; three hours, the _Restaurante Balandro. _Have fun playing with your new toy, Our Jackie."

"She's tons of fun, isn't she?" RJ 13 asked, fiddling with his cables.

"I'm _so glad_ you're amused," Jack growled.

"Well, unlike you, Master Meatsack, I can edit the most traumatizing incidences from my memory bank. Less being scarred for life-ee and more last-minute beta-ing-ee. . . . ee," RJ 13 added, just in case he had missed one.

"Best argument for becoming a cyborg I've heard all day," Jack sighed. "And hold your damn horses, I've just got to do one last check of the neuro relays and we can switch you over."

"And then we can go to dinner!" RJ 13 announced cheerfully. "I actually had the tailor order two of those suits so I could have one, too. We'll look like twins!"

"We _already_ . . . I'm not going to dignify that stupid comment with a response," Jack sighed.

"Are you going to yell 'Throw the switch!' or 'It's ALIVE!' like you used to?" The robot inquired.

"Nah; that's old hat. It loses its sparkle after the first fifty times you scream it," Jack said, turning his attention back to the last-minute preparations.

"Can I yell it?" RJ 13 asked.

"Knock yourself out," Jack stated with a chuckle. "Okay, ya ready?"

"Throw the LEVER!" RJ 13 howled.

In actuality, Jack, pressed a button.

The computers in the lab began to hum as though they were planning on taking off. A window popped up on Jack's primary working screen showing files flying through the air into a new computer.

"It's actually a lot less dramatic in real life," he announced to no one in particular.

RJ 13 was beyond hearing him; the android's personality was now split between his original body, the bank of computers in the lab and his new body.

"While you do that, I'm going for a shower. Dinner tonight and everything," Jack continued.

Since it was a special occasion, Jack re-dyed his hair – his roots were starting to show -- then showered and changed into his new suit.

It was a gorgeous thing, black jacket over a black shirt with a black tie. It sounded boring, but they were black like a raven's wing was black; different iridescent hues hid under the underlying color and came out to leap and dance across Jack's slender form when the light was just right. Only a blood-red handkerchief peeping coyly out of his top pocket added a splash of color to his somberly dressed self.

Jack carefully applied his eyeliner and stepped out of his berth to meet himself face-to-face.

His other self was stark naked.

"Master . . ." RoboJack 13 breathed, running his hands reverentially over his torso. "You have outdone yourself."

For all intents and purposes, a perfect copy of Jack Spicer stood before him. There were no tell-tale seams, no 'Lucky 13' decal on his chest, no perfectly smooth body. Jack had covered RJ 13's body in the same fake skin they used on sex toys – not that he would ever admit that, the 'sex machine' jokes would be endless – and had even pieced in silvery body hair where appropriate. Not over the whole body, obviously, but . . . you know . . . in the pertinent places. It was purely for mammalian verisimilitude.

Jack grinned to hear such praise.

"Like it, huh? Well, it probably is the most advanced technology on the planet right now . . ."

"No seams . . . and I have pubic hair and everything!" The robot gushed.

"P-pubic . . . I created that body to be the most advanced weapon mankind has ever seen and you're excited because it has _pubic hair_?" Jack gaped.

"The anus . . . oh, it's semi-functional! I can get my finger all the way in!" RJ 13 continued.

"For the love of--! Get out of my sight and quit fingering yourself, you artificial retard!" Jack screeched.

"I'm gonna go show Nana!"

"Yeah, you go show – _put some damn clothes on first!_"

Chase Young was over sulking over Spicer.

Occasionally, he would get a bit pouty and sullen over the whole affair, but now it was more over the fact that he had thrown Jack away. He thought that he had the albino genius figured out, but he had miscalculated. He had made a mistake.

Chase Young _screwed up_.

That was what pissed him off most; fifteen hundred years of life and he still bungled the most basic human manipulations. It was irritating.

However, you didn't stay on top in the realm of Heylin by staying home, eating ice cream and pouting. In addition to toying with the Xiaolin Monks and keeping one step ahead of Bean, there was also the issue of a power vacuum to deal with.

Wuya was dead. Someone would be stepping up to take her place.

Even before his newfound maturity, Jack Spicer would have been the obvious choice. What the youth had lacked in skill he made up for in perseverance. He had breathed life back into Heylin when Wuya was still a ghost and Chase had been away on a century long vacation.

However.

The young man Jack Spicer had become had no interest in scrabbling in the dirt for magical trinkets. There were times when Chase certainly agreed with the sentiment but he had signed on to be a Heylin Master for at least 10,000 years. Responsibilities were responsibilities. If he didn't maintain the balance of Lawful Evil, it would fall to the likes of Bean, who knew nothing of law or honor.

To Chase's surprise, the Russian Vlad (ushered into the conflict by Jack Spicer) and Le Mime (also introduced to the Heylin by Jack Spicer) had stepped up their activity in Xiaolin Showdowns.

Tubbimura (hired by Jack Spicer early on) showed up from time to time and even Panda Bubba (first clued in to the existence of Shen Gong Wu by Jack Spicer) had made a rare appearance.

Katnappe's attendance had grown more sporadic. Apparently she had followed Jack's example in finding better things to do, just like when she had followed Jack's example to enter the Heylin-Xiaolin conflict in the first place.

'_By the Ancient Dragons,_' Chase thought to himself, watching Raimundo and Le Mime battle for the Earthquake Spade. '_Is there anyone besides myself and Bean Jack Spicer __**didn't**__recruit?_'

Maybe that power vacuum was larger than Chase realized. He wasn't just looking for a replacement for Wuya, he needed to replace Spicer as well.

"Chase Young! You look puzzled and distressed!" Omi cried. "Our newfound battle prowess obviously amazes you!"

"Actually, young monk, I was reflecting on the pitiful ranks of the Heylin and what should be done now that Wuya and Spicer are gone," Chase admitted with a sigh.

For a moment, there was no answer to this.

"Jack's gone?" Kimiko blurted.

Chase tore his cool gaze away from the battle to arch an elegant eyebrow at the Dragon of Fire.

"Spicer hasn't been present for a Showdown in over six months," he stated. "None of you wondered where he went?"

"Now hold up; we raided his Evil Lair not a month ago," Clay drawled.

"And was he present?" Chase prompted.

"Ah . . . no. All of his robots were in storage, too," Kimiko recalled.

"What? No triumphant cheer? You guys are getting too used to me kicking butt!" Raimundo announced, joining the group. "Here, Clay, take this thing."

Le Mime picked himself up off of the ground a fair distance away and threw Raimundo a gesture that, although silent, accurately depicted his feelings on the matter and slunk off into the shadows. Rai was dragging the Earthquake Spade by one end as he made his way to the rest of the monks.

The Dragon of Earth took the newly acquired Shen Gong Wu from his leader and hefted onto his shoulder as if it weighed no more than your average broom.

"Rai, Chase Young says Jack's been missin' for over six months!" Clay reported.

"What? No he . . ." The Dragon of the Wind trailed off. "We . . . we haven't seen him, have we? Not since that whole business with the drinking contest."

"I thought we agreed never to speak of that again," Omi growled.

"No, _you_ agreed never to speak of that again, you little lightweight," Raimundo corrected.

Omi blanched, but thrust an accusing finger at Chase.

"Chase Young! What have you done with the pathetic Jack Spicer?"

The other monks immediately leapt onto the bandwagon.

"Yeah! Did you accidentally kill him while he was begging for your approval?" Kimiko demanded.

"Or did you throw him in your deepest dungeon for being annoying?" Raimundo offered.

"Maybe ya got him chained up somewhere usin' his incredible mathematical abilities t' research alchemical formulas!" Clay cried.

There was a pause and the other three monks gave the Dragon of the Earth a _look_.

"What? A cowboy can't know about forsaken blends of science an' magic?" he asked them reproachfully.

"As fascinatingly unimaginative as these claims are, young monks, they are all incorrect. Jack Spicer has recused himself from the Heylin-Xiaolin conflict. He saw no further profit in it. When last I saw Spicer – _three_ months ago – he was in port-of-call in Colon, Panama, dancing to techno music and engaging in casual sex acts with strangers."

Chase was over the incident enough to say it calmly, even though there was still a slight sting deep down.

Omi looked puzzled by this statement. Clay blushed. Raimundo gave a disbelieving sneer.

"Port-of-call? He's on a cruise?" Kimiko asked. "He went on vacation?"

"If it was vacation, then he shall return!" Omi declared.

"It started as a vacation," Chase informed them. "Apparently he felt he deserved one after slaying Wuya in battle."

A flurry of disbelieving noises erupted from the monks.

"Jack?"

"Jack killed Wuya? No way!"

"Okay, now you're just lying to us!"

Chase shrugged lightly.

"Whether you believe me or not does not change the facts," the dragon lord announced. "Believe what you like. I only speak the truth. But after speaking with Spicer, he expressed no interest in hunting for Shen Gong Wu or battling with you four. I believe he was questing for his own fortune, but I may have been mistaken."

"Questing for his fortune? How could you mistaken –" Omi began.

"The exact phrase he used was 'using his genius to grab some fat cash'," Chase intoned, the quotation marks clearly audible. "I assume that's what the kids are calling it these days."

Kimiko snorted lightly.

"Okay, first you tell us that Jack Spicer killed Wuya, then decided to reward himself with a cruise, then decided not to come back and now he's out partying and getting laid and being _cool_?" Raimundo questioned. "Sorry, I just don't buy it!"

"I don't _care_ if you don't believe me," Chase informed them. "What you choose to do with this information is entirely up to you."

"Jack really is in your dungeons, isn't he?" Kimiko cried.

"Oh by the Ancient – look!"

With a wave of the dragon lord's hand, the waters of a nearby stream stilled and grew dark. An image began to form in the inky depths.

Isabella de Castilla thought she had a pretty good racket going.

After school, the eight year old would change into her most ragged dress, run down to the docks where the cruise ships and luxury yachts docked, dig up some stinking mud from the water's edge, then ask the rich passersby for a euro in exchange for a handful of mud.

When they told her 'no', she'd heave a fistful of mud right onto their nice clean clothes.

A few soft hearts would give her the money right off and then there was no need for mud flinging. When times were better and the docks were full of people, she'd only need to throw once and then everyone would pay up out of fear for their nice clothes. Now travelers were fewer and far between. Last year at this time a few hours of begging/extorting would get her enough to buy a new CD, some toys and candy. Now she was lucky if she could get enough for candy.

Isabella's eyes lit up when she saw a trio of well-dressed travelers walking towards her.

There was an old lady walking with a cane and two young men – twins, actually – dressed in gorgeous suits making their way leisurely along the sea wall.

"Misters! Misters! Would you give me a euro for a handful of muds?" Isabella asked in heavily-accented English.

All three of the people considered her for a moment, then one of the twins addressed her.

"You're going about this all wrong," he announced in flawless Spanish. "You've got to make it clear what happens if people don't pay up. It wouldn't hurt to make yourself look a little more pathetic, either."

" . . . pathetic?" Isabella questioned.

"You've got the ragged dress down, but you're still way too clean to be a beggar child," the white skinned man continued. "Try rolling in the dirt or messing up your hair."

"Oh. Thank you, mister."

"You're welcome. Now." The red-eyed man gave her a benevolent smile and held up a gold-and-silver coin. "I have a shiny new euro here for good girls who drop their mud."

Isabella grinned and emptied her hands, then held them out for the coin. The white-skinned man started to hand it to her, but lost his grip on the euro.

"Oops!" he cried as the coin flipped over Isabella's head and rolled over by the sea wall.

Isabella turned to grab the wayward euro when a size eleven wingtip caught her under the rump and propelled her over the sea wall. The little girl shrieked as she dropped twelve feet into the warm surf.

"Also!" Jack called. "Never try that shit on someone more evil than you!"

"Fucking _classic_, Master," RJ 13 giggled.

"You're going to make a good father, Our Jackie," Nana announced happily.

Jack bent over to retrieve his euro. He saw the little girl pop to the surface, sputtering the worst curses her eight-year-old mind could come up with. He gave her a cheerful wave and a big smile as she began stroking for the nearest pier.

The trio began to move off down the street.

Isabella crawled up onto the dock when the twins and the old lady were just still in sight.

"I hope the albino hunters get you!" she screamed.

Chase Young was certain so-called good monks shouldn't be laughing that hard at a beggar child getting kicked into the ocean.

Not that it wasn't hysterically funny, but still . . . Chase was evil and was supposed to laugh at such things.

Only Omi wasn't in hysterics.

"But – he kicked that little girl . . ."

"It's okay, Omi, she landed in the water," Clay assured his friend. "She wasn't hurt."

"Serves the little slum-rat right," Raimundo guffawed.

"_That_ was Jack?" Kimiko purred. "Wow."

Raimundo immediately stopped laughing.

"He's been training," Chase confirmed. "Working out, not wasting his time on foolish things; you know, _maturing_? I'm sure you've heard of it."

Now both Raimundo and Kimiko threw him looks that could have killed.

"What was it she said about albino hunters?" Omi wondered.

"A very good observation, Omi," Chase allowed. "In Africa, albino humans are often slaughtered for their body parts, which are supposed to bring good luck and power to the holders. But this looks like Europe . . ."

"Oh my God, seriously? Gross!" Kimiko cried.

"Mmmm, Spain to be exact," Chase continued as though he hadn't heard her. "Why would a beggar child in Spain be referring to albino hunters?"

"They kill people and turn their body parts into good luck charms? DUDE! Why are you so quiet about this?"

The last sentence was directed at Clay.

"I'm white," the cowboy drawled. "Any disapprovin' or disgusted remarks I make will automatically sound racist. Anyway, this crap was on CNN last week. Am I th' only one that watches th' news?"

"Albino hunters . . . This situation may prove . . . interesting," Chase murmured thoughtfully.

The Alameda Room at the _Restaurante Balandro_ proved to be a pleasant place to while away the hours on delicious fresh seafood and wine. RJ 13 was satisfied to drink his dinner; while his new body was rife with ways to imitate humanity, he still couldn't digest food. Burning alcohol would still have to suffice.

Jack stuffed himself to the brim with seafood alfredo and washed it down with a light German white wine. The night was warm with a sea breeze blowing in; in fact, the only thing ruining his belated birthday celebration was . . .

"I hate it when people stare," Jack growled.

RJ 13 glanced in the direction his master was looking. Several teenage girls would look in the Spicers' direction, then giggle furtively.

"Um . . . they aren't exactly staring, Master," the robot announced.

"What? They're totally staring!"

"What your robot is trying to point out is that those girls are giving you the eye, Our Jackie," Nana Spicer pointed out. "Though it's a bit wasted since you're on the other team and all."

"I don't _not_ like girls," Jack corrected. "They're soft and smell good. They're just a lot harder to figure out than guys."

Nana Spicer was silent for a moment.

"You . . . like both? Oh, Our Jackie, we need to get you some understanding of women!" Nana cried.

"Nana, don't tell me you're not cool with gay—"

"Fuck that!" Nana spat. "I want some grandbabies! We need to get you a girl! Have a lad on the side if you want!"

Jack stared at his grandmother for a second.

"I . . . _am _your grandbaby," he pointed out.

Nana blinked at him, then made a derisive noise and waved her hand irritably.

"I've written your father off as a loss," she announced. "You're my son now. Which is why you're getting this!"

Nana held out a weathered yellow envelope. Jack, mind still reeling from his abrupt elevation in generation, took the envelope.

Inside, an old certificate extolled the virtues of the family of Speer, and promised a fine estate in Bavaria, land, servants, and political power. Jack was starting wonder why he had never heard of this particular bit of the family fortune when his eyes fell on the signature at the bottom.

"Ah. Um, Nana . . . what exactly is this?" Jack asked.

"Well, if history had gone a bit differently, that would have been proof of your birthright. As it is, it's a family heirloom I expect you to cherish."

"It's signed by Adolph Hitler," Jack stated. "What the hell do I want with it?"

"Family heirloom!" Nana repeated.

"You could flog it to a collector," RJ 13 offered.

"That's true," Jack said, tucking the envelope into his suit pocket.

"Family heirloom!"

"Evil!" Jack returned.

"Just for that, I'm going to have them sing 'Happy Birthday' to you," Nana said, gesturing for a waiter.

"Oh hell no! We're leaving!" Jack declared.

"No, it's his birthday! Sing to him!" Nana ordered, pointing at her grandson.

"Nope! Leaving! Goodbye!" Jack blurted, leaping to his feet.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Jackie, Happy Birthday to you!" Nana began singing and was quickly joined by RJ 13, the waiters and a few of the other patrons.

Jack gave them all the evil eye and started for the door. RJ 13 threw a few bills on the table to pay for the meal and followed, with Nana Spicer bringing up the rear.

"I should throttle you both in your sleep," Jack growled when they were back in the streets.

"I don't sleep," RJ 13 reminded him cheerfully.

Nana gave her grandson a hug with the arm not holding her cane.

"Oh, there, there, Our Jackie; a fleeting moment of embarrassment won't kill you. Bottle it up and use it to fuel that rage burning deep inside you," she suggested.

"Done and done," Jack sighed. "Ugh. Some birthday. I didn't even get cake."

"We could have ordered some, but you wanted to leave!" Nana pointed out.

"Let's get ice cream and hookers!" RJ 13 suggested.

"Oh, that sounds good!" Nana Spicer quickly seconded.

"Cake! Birthdays mean cake!" Jack pointed out. "I could go for some sex, though . . ."

"Ice cream melts into a liquid and is easier to clean out of my faux esophagus," RJ 13 pointed out. "But hookers. Definitely hookers."

"Why would you want to put any food in? You can't actually eat it," Nana Spicer pointed out.

"I can still taste it, though!" RJ 13 protested. "This new body has sensors like WHOA! I want to see what this 'chocolate' is all about."

"You made a robot with taste buds?" Nana wondered.

"Nana, he's got a dick and pubic hair. Taste buds are actually slightly _less _weird. But hookers. Definitely hookers."

"We could find a pastry shop and get some cake for you, Our Jackie, then go to an ice cream stand for RJ 13, then go drag the strip for some negotiable affection," Nana proffered as though she were planning a shopping trip for her grandchildren. Which, in a way, she was.

"Are you going to find a male or female prostitute, Master?" RJ 13 asked.

"I . . . haven't decided yet," Jack admitted.

"It's your birthday; get one of each!" Nana suggested.

Jack lifted both eyebrows in a look that said 'There's an idea' when someone spoke from the darkened street behind them.

"Boys like you ought'n be out at this hour," a man's voice pointed out.

Jack, RJ 13, and Nana half-turned to see the speaker, a large man in dark clothes. They weren't dark like someone who wanted to be all ninja and evil. It was just the dark blues and grays of someone who had a messy job to do and didn't like little marks to show. The man's jaw was square and solid and the cut of his hair almost military. He peered at Jack and RJ 13 critically.

"Red eyes," he observed. "Identical twin albinos. How we let you two slip through for this long I'll never know."

"We just got here today," RJ 13 announced.

"And why shouldn't 'boys like us' be out at night?" Jack wondered aloud.

A fleeting smile tugged at the corner of the stranger's mouth.

"Well, you might get mugged or snatched," he offered.

A few more dark figures left the alleyway behind the trio, spreading out in a half-circle to pin them up against the building. They were men dressed like the speaker; nothing that would look out of the ordinary on the street, but easily overlooked in the dark. There were six men in total, military haircuts on the lot of them.

Jack, RJ 13, and Nana Spicer watched this impassively.

"Well, there's worse things than muggers out at night," Nana offered sweetly.

"Us, for a start," RJ 13 stated flatly.

"Kill the old woman. Take the twins," the speaker ordered.

"That's certainly a good plan," Jack said, fiddling with an MP3 player. "Let's see how it pans out, shall we?"

The young genius pressed a button on his MP3 player smugly.

'_If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says  
15 miles to the... Love Shack! Love Shack yeah__'_

"Oh, shit; I hit the wrong button," he muttered, turning back to his fiddling.

A dark figure lunged for him, but Jack snap-kicked him in the throat hard enough to hear the hyoid bone crack over the techno music blaring from the device. Someone else grabbed his arm, but Jack elbowed him in the face before grabbing his attacker by the ear, tossing him over his hip and then emphasizing his irritation with a heel kick to the chest.

'_I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway_

_Looking for the love getaway_

_Headed for the love getaway!_

_I got me a car, it's as big as whale_

_And we're headin' on down to the Love Shack_

_I got me a Chrysler, it seats about twenty_

_So hurry up! And bring your jukebox money!'_

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw RJ 13 mouthing along to the words of the song. The sudden foolishness of charging into battle to 'Love Shack' by the B-52s suddenly struck the young genius and he cackled madly before tackling another shady thug.

"_The Love Shack is a little old place  
where we can get together  
Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.  
Love baby, that's where it's at,  
Ooo love baby, that's where it's at!_" Jack sang.

RJ 13 giggled hysterically as he rotated an attacker's arm far enough to tear the tendons. The man went down screaming and the robot merely snapped the neck on the other man grappling with him.

"_Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin',  
wearin' next to nothing  
Cause it's hot as an oven  
The whole shack shimmies!  
The whole shack shimmies when everybody's  
Movin' around and around and around and around!_" They sang together.

Nana Spicer watched this whole thing impassively. Two black clad men were dying at her feet, but she seemed entirely oblivious to how they might have gotten there. Only the faint smell of gunpowder and suspicious lump in her handbag offered a clue.

"Nicely done, Our Jackie, but the song?" she sighed.

"Aww, c'mon, Nana, what could be more insulting than getting your ass kicked to 'Love Shack?'" Jack asked. "It's like 'You see this? This is how threatened I feel. Fuck you emphatically.' How could it get worse?"

"Maybe if you were wearing a tutu at the same time . . ." RJ 13 offered.

"Yeah! Or, you know, something by Miley Cyrus . . ."

Nana sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Their mouthpiece took off," she observed.

Sure enough, the man that had done all the talking was long gone.

"Smart guy," Jack observed. "But he left something behind."

One of the men who had gone for RJ 13 was trying to hobble away, one arm dangling uselessly.

"Wow; that looks like it hurts," Jack observed, strolling up to the injured man.

The man wheezed in pain and edged away from Jack, shaking his head slightly.

"You don't look so good, pal," the albino youth continued.

"He's going into shock, by his respiration," RJ 13 offered.

The man tried to hobble faster. By luck, he found a set of stone steps leading down to the water's edge and started down them at a snail's pace.

"Shock, huh?" Jack sighed. "Wow, badly injured and going into shock. You need to get warm and get some medical attention or you might die."

The man wheezed and shuffled down another step.

Jack turned away from him in disinterest and walked back towards Nana, RJ 13 following suit. After a few minutes of wheezing and the sounds of labored footsteps, a quiet 'Aw, fuck it' broke the stillness. Jack Spicer came back to the injured man and cheerfully kicked him down the stone steps.

"What is it with you and kicking people today, Master?" RJ 13 inquired as the injured man screamed in agony.

"It's my birthday!" Jack said defensively. "Anyway, it's fun. When I rule the world maybe I'll have a pit just for kicking people into!"

"Will you scream 'This is Sparta!' while you do it?" RJ 13 asked dryly.

"Maybe. Anyway. Somebody said something about hookers and ice cream?"

"Yay! Hookers and ice cream!" The robot cheered.

Two hours later, sated, sweaty, slightly sticky, and still smelling of strawberry ice cream, Jack Spicer cuddled a busty blonde against one shoulder and a dark-skinned Mediterranean beach boy against the other.

An idle thought finally surfaced.

"I wonder what that guy wanted with albino twins?"

On the other side of the world, Chase Young deactivated his Eye Spy Orb and sat back. He had wondered that very question at the time of its asking, so he set out to find the answer. Spicer was heading straight into trouble again. Some things simply didn't change.

However, the youth's skills and power were on a more even keel than his opposition.

The situation bore watching, for entertainment purposes if nothing else.

Especially for that bit about the strawberry ice cream.


	5. The Likes of You Again

"Are you sure about this, Our Jackie?" Nana Spicer inquired gently.

Jack Spicer reclined in his seat, legs propped up on the seat opposite. His eyes were closed and he rocked gently with the motion of the train.

"Nana, I am as sure of this as I have ever been of anything in my life. What's the point of travelling around the world if you can't stop and see the places you always wanted to visit? Anyway; you said the treasure was north of Innsbruck, so it's on the way."

This part of the argument was completely factual. The fabled treasure of the Nazis was supposedly on the border of Germany and Austria directly north of Innsbruck. However, Jack had heard the name of the world's Mecca for alpine sports and declared a mini-holiday for skiing.

The three of them left the heavy-duty truck Jack had purchased for the over land transport of his digging machines and hopped on a train through the mountains to Innsbruck.

They had only brought a small bag for clothing. Nana was pleased to see that Jack wore his birthday suit jacket over a charcoal shirt and black slacks. The same pair of yellow sunglasses he had worn for his birthday celebration was pushed up around his hairline.

Nana paused for a moment to simply stare at her grandson.

Goddamn, he really did look like his grandfather. Not in the 'Oooo, Albert, he has your nose!' type of way typical of grandchildren, but in the way he carried himself; the loose charm, the rascally 'I'm a bad boy, but you love me anyway' air that surrounded him.

Oh, there were certainly differences; the albinism for a start. Also, Jack had his worthless mother's nose and Nana's smile. But those eyes were all Albert Spicer/Albrecht Speer. The shape of the face was the same and Jack was tall and thin like his grandfather.

Mark Spicer, Jack's father, had taken his body shape from his mother's side of the family giving the impression that he could bench-press a car with little effort. Unfortunately, Mark has missed 'evil genius' and smacked head-on into 'psychotic bastard'. He had easily amassed wealth, but the idea of spreading evil across the world seemed lost on him. He was evil in that 'just plain crazy' type of way.

Jack, however . . . . oh, Jack was the crown jewel on Frederrika's matriarchal tiara. He was learning, growing, amassing wealth on his own and soon he would be an evil force to be reckoned with.

A bit of sadness rippled through Nana Spicer as she realized she probably wouldn't live to see Jack start his own evil empire. It wasn't fair; she had spent her life raising the worthless throwaway and now that her genes had spawned something worthwhile, she was too old to witness the whole story.

Goddamn, she was old.

"Nana?"

Nana tore her gaze away from the train window to see Jack looking at her.

"What's wrong? Why'd you go all quiet?" he asked.

"Nothing, luv. I was just thinking about my life. You do that when you're old."

Jack snorted.

"Old, right . . . . you'll outlive us all, you old bitch."

For once, this didn't have the desired effect of verbal abuse and/or getting whacked with a cane. Nana Spicer simply sighed and continued to stare out of the window.

Jack frowned slightly.

"They didn't have Sissi Veilchen so I got some umbrella chocolates instead, Nana," RJ 13 reported, climbing over Jack's outstretched legs to sit opposite of Nana. Packages of snacks and canned drinks were piled in the android's arms. "Katzenzungen and a Shark for you, Master."

The android tossed Jack a small package of chocolates with kittens on the label and an energy drink.

"Mmmmm, kitty tongues," Jack murmured happily, tearing the package open.

Nana made similar pleased noises as she opened her own box of chocolates.

"Nobody panic, but a cop followed me back from the snack bar," RJ 13 murmured in a low voice.

"What'd you do?" Nana inquired without looking up.

"Nothing! I even paid for the candy!" RJ 13 stated, looking out of the window casually.

Jack tipped his drink back for a swallow, then propped his elbow on the train seat and looked behind him with the highly reflective can. It wasn't a perfect mirror, but Jack could make out the shape of a man in a dark blue uniform.

"He's talking on a cell phone," Jack observed.

"I told you that nonsense in Panama would come back to haunt you," Nana Spicer muttered.

"Bullshit, nobody cares about South America!" Jack hissed.

"Here he comes," RJ 13 muttered.

The three of them fell silent as a uniformed Austrian police officer approached their seats.

"Misters Schwarz?" he inquired politely.

"S-Schwarz? Um . . . no . . . ." Jack answered.

RJ 13 and Nana exchanged a blank look.

"But you are the relations of the missing Schwarz sisters, yes?"

Jack slowly shook his head, confusion writ loud on his features.

"We came for the skiing," RJ 13 stated.

Now the police officer looked embarrassed.

"Oh, my apologies! I saw you were albinos and twins run in families, so I assumed you had come to Innsbruck to speak to the detectives . . ." the officer waved as if brushing away a cloud of confusion. "You just came for the skiing? Now? Have you arranged for protection?"

Jack couldn't have looked more confused if he had been trying.

"Protection? From _what_?"

"I have some rubbers in my wallet," RJ 13 offered.

"From what? Have you been in a basement for three months?" The officer asked in dull horror.

"It was a ship," Jack corrected. "And it was six months. What's going on?"

The police officer rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"Oh dear. Excuse me; I am going to get a coffee and sit with you."

"To explain things?" Jack prompted.

"And . . . . to protect you. Excuse me."

The officer had barely disappeared into the next car when Nana was struggling to rise.

"Sit!" Jack growled.

"Our Jackie, what if they run –"

"I want to know what we're dealing with. If it gets sticky later we'll just kill him."

"Well, I suppose," Nana allowed, settling back into her seat.

"In the last three months, albinos from all over Europe have disappeared. There aren't many witnesses, but the ones we have describe multiple attackers working in unison. No bodies have been found, no ransom demands have been made; it as if these individuals simply vanished off the face of the earth. European albinos are staying locked in their homes, only going out with large groups and keeping police updated of their every move. Even these measures aren't foolproof and people are still going missing." Constable Lang paused for a sip of his coffee.

Jack, RJ 13, and Nana Spicer exchanged a look.

"The Schwarz sisters are a pair of twin albinos from Mittenwald, Germany. A local artist gave them a bit of fame with a series of art prints. They came back to Innsbruck for another session and disappeared. I saw you and your brother and assumed . . . there can't be very many twin albinos."

"Oh. Well, that's nice," Jack declared. "But we're going skiing."

Constable Lang blinked.

"You – you still want to go on holiday? But you are taking your lives in your hands!"

"I am treating my favorite grandchild to a birthday vacation," Nana Spicer said. "If Our Jackie wants to ski, we will ski."

"Your favorite grandchild? And how does he feel about this?" The officer asked, gesturing to RJ 13.

"He manages to plug the gaping hole in his heart with booze and loose women," Jack quipped.

"Them's the breaks!" RJ 13 said cheerfully, lifting his beer.

"If you weren't so lazy and shiftless, you might be my favorite grandchild, RJ!" Nana said, shaking her finger at the robot. "Why can't you be more like your brother?"

"I still beat out Megan, though, right?" RJ 13 asked.

"Yes, easily."

"RJ? What does that stand for?" Constable Lang asked.

"His _name_ is Rudolph Jan Spicer!" Nana said primly. "Though he shames the name."

"Rudolph?" the officer echoed.

"No wonder he drinks, right?" Jack muttered. "Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. My brother and I are going skiing and Nana will . . . ."

"Bask in your happiness?" the cop sneered.

"I was going to say get sloshed and try to get laid," Jack supplied. "'Cause I think I owe her a stop in Amsterdam after this."

"Damn right," Nana muttered.

Constable Lang stared at them in horror.

"E-excuse me, I am going to make a phone call," he muttered, standing and making his way to the back of the car.

"Well now we _can't_ run; it will look too suspicious," Nana muttered.

"We don't need to run," Jack said. "We're on vacation."

"Rudolph . . ." RJ 13 murmured.

Jack and Nana looked over at the android.

"Rudolph Jan Spicer," he continued in the same wondering tone. "Rudolph J. Spicer. Rudy – no, not Rudy."

"Why did you pick Rudolph?" Jack asked his grandmother. "There's lots of normal names that begin with 'R'."

"I had a crush on Rudolph Hess when I was a girl," Nana said lightly.

Jack grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"R.J. Spicer, Esquire. _Rudolph_."

"At least with a name like 'Rudolph' it will be easy to explain why he goes by 'RJ'," Jack sighed.

"No, call me Rudolph now!" the robot blurted. "Call me Rudolph like crazy! Do it all the time!"

"Ho boy," Jack muttered.

"Don't get all uppity just because you've had a name since you were born!" RJ 13 hissed. "I've got this great new body . . . I can taste stuff . . . . I've got pubic hair and now a _name_! _Rudolph J. Spicer_."

"Now say 'I'm a real boy!'" Jack prompted.

"I'd rather say 'Fuck you, big brother!'" RJ said with a grin.

The robot leaned in and stole a chocolate from the bag in Jack's lap.

"Don't! You'll just waste it!" Jack wailed as the robot popped the chocolate into his mouth.

The genius tackled his 'twin' and the two mock-wrestled in a manner familiar to brothers everywhere.

"What's Officer Friendly doing?" Jack hissed to Nana.

"Talking on the phone. Now he's hung up and he's just standing at the back of the car," Nana observed.

"Protecting and serving," RJ 13 quipped. "Somebody call me 'Rudolph', dammit!"

"Not until you promise not to steal anymore of my Katzenzungen, _Rudy_!" Jack growled.

"Rudolph! Not Rudy!"

"Rudolph, please don't squabble with your brother," Nana said in a voice so sweet it could give you cavities.

"Awwww, thank you, Nana!" 'Rudolph' squealed, wiggling out from under Jack. "My Nana!"

Nana hugged the android sweetly.

"Jack, I have to say, you are the most talented person you I have ever met. How you could you give me another grandchild when you _are_ my grandchild?"

"He's Jack Spicer," The newly dubbed Rudolph observed. "He's _made_ of awesome."

"Damn straight!" Jack seconded, clutching his bag of chocolates protectively.

"Another boy genius? Advanced in technology, like Spicer, or active in another stripe? Technology. That's good."

Chase Young sat at enormous desk, files and papers spread across the surface. A laptop computer was barely managing to stay on the edge of the desk. The ancient dragonlord had a cell phone clapped to his ear and was looking more than a bit harried. Chase had stripped out of his armor, but still wore his black gi, partially unbuttoned and with the sleeves rolled up.

"Anything else I should know? Short? I can live with that. Red hair? Well, why mess with a winning formula? Is that him? Oh, I _like _the accent! Explain the offer, would you?"

Chase paused as one of his warriors stood at the door and waited to be noticed. Behind him, just visible, the Xiaolin monks peered curiously at their enemy.

The dragonlord made a vague but harried gesture of 'why are they bothering me now?', but gestured them in.

"He isn't evil? Why are you wasting my time, then?" Chase fell silent for a moment, but his gaze followed Omi across the floor. "I already have one like that," he muttered vaguely. "Report back when you have something worthwhile to tell me."

Young snapped the cell phone shut, picked up the file in front of him and hurled it into the fireplace. Any fire that might have been started was smothered under reams of paper.

Chase Young leveled a glare at the monks.

"What?" he snapped.

The monks exchanged a quick glance, as if they were already regretting coming here.

"Jack . . . Jack really is gone," Raimundo announced.

Even to his ears, the declaration sounded stupid. Of course Chase knew Jack was gone; he was the one who had told them. In fact, they had discovered this was the case when they had gone to 'liberate' every last Shen Gong Wu from Jack's unguarded lab and found a Jackbot waiting for them with every SGW the albino genius owned (save the Monkey Staff) and a message. They could have the Wu provided they stopped breaking into the damn house and next time the perimeter alarm went off, the police would be summoned.

" . . . . Yes? _ And_?" Chase snarled.

"So, um . . . do you have the Monkey Staff or do you know if Jack kept it for sentimental reasons?"

"What are you doing?" Omi cut in, looking across the mountains of paper on the desk.

"I am recruiting, young monk," the Heylin master stated with a calm he didn't feel. "I am short both an evil witch and a boy genius."

"Ever heard of ?" Kimiko asked.

"Miss Tohomiko, I am concerned with the evil ranks of Heylin, not the night shift at the local convenience store."

"Well, what sorta benefits ya offerin'?" Clay asked. "I mean, every evil organization worth it's salt has t' at least have some kinda health insurance."

"Dental's good, too," Kimiko offered. "Cause, you know, minions are always getting their teeth knocked out."

The Dragon of Fire punched the air to demonstrate.

"Yeah, or at least pay well enough that they can get that stuff themselves," Raimundo piped up.

Chase Young stared at the monks before them as though they were speaking an unknown language.

" . . . 'benefits'?" he hazarded.

Three of the Xiaolin Dragons stared back at Chase in shock.

"You aren't offerin' _any_ benefits? No wonder ya ain't had any takers!"

"You have to offer _at least_ health and dental to even entry-level minions! Minioning is a hazardous job!" Kimiko cried. "I hear the Foot Clan has hiring bonuses, too."

"I mean, if you want people to get beat up for you, you have to offer them more than they're going to get for flipping burgers! Seriously, what's your entry level pay grade?" Rai asked.

There was a pause as the monks waited for the answer. Chase realized with distaste that he was going to have to fill that yawning silence.

"There . . . is no pay," he stated quietly. "Just the chance to learn at my side."

"Would that not be enough for prospective evil persons?" Omi inquired in a tiny voice.

"NO!" the other three Dragons barked.

"No pay, no benefits, and – are ya even offerin' room an' board? – no one is going to sacrifice that much for so little in return!" Clay blurted. "You can't even start at th' bottom of a company an' work your way to th' top anymore! The world just don't work that way."

"Sorry, dude, but you're just not enough of a household name to make that work," Rai said with a shrug.

"I resent that remark and don't call me 'dude'," Chase hissed.

"Actually," Kimiko said. "If you promoted yourself as a _school_ instead of a prospective workplace that might work." The Dragon of Fire grabbed Chase's ignored laptop and pulled it towards her. "What was the name of that evil school run by that Brother Blood guy?"

"Hooooo . . . . it's got somethin' t' do with bees, don't it?" Clay asked.

"Lovely suggestions though these are, young monks, may I remind you that I am a dragon lord of ancient power and I don't _pay_ underlings."

"Jack did," Raimundo announced.

"Ya know what Jack was good at?" Clay inquired. "He was real good at lettin' people have a bite of th' apple."

"He never gave me apples," Omi pointed out sullenly.

"No, he means that Jack would just hire people for one or two missions and then they'd keep coming back on their own. For _free_."

"Or Katnappe? I think she started just t' compete with Jack,"

"Yeah, he'd always bitch and call her by her first name but he'd show up and give her a ride home when she needed it," Kimiko interjected, not taking her eyes from the screen for a second. "I could have sworn they were sleeping together."

"Really? I got an 'annoying little sister' vibe off of that," Rai offered.

"Pandabubba got sucked in on a Jack Spicer business deal," Clay said, changing the subject when Omi started looking puzzled.

"Or Vlad? Geez, we never saw Vlad coming! Jack even ordered Vlad to beat him up in front of us so we would think he was legit!"

"It worked embarrassingly well!" Omi growled.

"As much as I hate t' say it, you can't _not like_ th' guy," Clay sighed.

"Vlad?"

"No, Jack! I mean, how many times has he just strolled in an' said hi? After we're through smashin' his robots it's just like: Welp, see ya next time!"

"That's true. When he needs something from us, he knows just what buttons to push to get it. Even if it's protection, he can get us to accept him enough to hang around," Kimiko said. "And it's H.I.V.E. Academy."

"Do they have a work release program?" Chase asked.

The four monks started, as if they had forgotten the dragon lord was there. Normally, Chase would have taken offense to this, but suddenly he was way too weary to care.

"Prisons have 'work release'," Raimundo corrected. "_Schools_ have 'school-to-work' programs."

"Whatever," Chase growled, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah, I think that's what this link is for," Kimiko said, clicking on something. "There's a list of students available for part-time villain – OOOOOOoooooooOOOOoo! Oh, hire Kid Wykkyd! He looks hot in a gothy/dark/visual kei kind of way."

Chase Young lost his temper.

"This is not a _dating service!_" He roared. "Get out of my house!"

Instantly, the room was full of big cats. The warriors in beast form quickly corralled the teens and herded them out of the door.

"I do not need to sit here and listen to you praise Spicer's charisma," Chase sighed when they were gone.

"Okay, seriously?" Jack sighed. "That's a little bit sad."

The trio was gathering their things to get off of the train. RJ 13 had been sent to dispose of their snack containers and bottles. Jack could now see a slip of paper the android had been scribbling on. Written over and over in various versions was 'Rudolph J. Spicer'.

Nana Spicer leaned over to read the practice signatures.

"Oh, I think it's sweet," she announced. "He's alive, see? You should be proud."

Jack grunted under his breath and gave the paper a distrustful glance. In his experience, when robots got this much independence it was bad news for Jack.

"You should at least be proud of yourself. You finally managed to replace your brother."

Jack paused.

"My – I don't have a brother, Nana! I'm an only child! Are you finally going senile?"

Nana Spicer didn't rise to the occasion but simply folded her hands over the head of her cane.

"You don't have a brother _now_. I thought dwelling on the dead would be too morbid for a child and your idiot parents have probably forgotten little Jacob. In the womb, you had a brother, Our Jackie. An identical twin brother, in fact. But only you survived birth."

Jack stared at his grandmother as if he'd never seen her before.

"We didn't let on because who wants to tell a little child they have a dead brother? But . . well, you've always been fascinated with twins and you started building robots that look like you. It was as if you knew you should have an identical twin running around somewhere. This one . . . Our Rudolph . . . I think he could be the one you've been trying to build. So that's why it's sweet."

Jack stared at Nana for a few minutes longer. Eventually, his gaze slid sideways to the paper on RJ 13's chair. He picked it up and studied it silently.

"Officer Friendly is still loitering," RJ 13 sighed as he came back to his seat. "Think we could make a citizens' arrest?"

When he got no response, he looked over Jack's shoulder to see what his master was staring at. His eyes widened when he saw what Jack was holding.

"Oh, don't – that's just—" the android stuttered, trying to snatch back his paper.

Jack pulled the paper out of reach and stared at it again.

"I've been thinking," he muttered. "You should change the 'Jan' to 'Jacob'."

RJ 13 paused.

"You think? Why?"

"Jacob's better. Jan's a weird name for a boy. If you're sticking with 'Rudolph', a more common middle name would cushion the strangeness a little. I like Jacob."

"Oh. Well, I guess I could do that."

"Jackson Albert Spicer and Rudolph Jacob Spicer. See? They're a good match," Jack said with hitherto unknown warmth in his voice.

"Well, yeah, I guess when you say it that way," the android said with a smile. "I'll change it, Jack."

"Thanks, Rudolph."

'Rudolph's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he caught up his brother in an impromptu hug.

Nana smiled to herself. So now Jackie could treat the robot like family; after all, he was built to replace the brother Jack never knew he had lost. He wouldn't be looking at Rudolph as competition. And Rudolph's behavior would change even more from 'servant' to 'family'. Nana would have two grandsons to be proud of.

All thanks to poor little dead Jacob.

As bald-faced lies went, he was a pretty good one.

There were cops waiting for them when they got off of the train.

Jack leveled a less-than-pleased glare at the detective that stepped forward to shake his hand.

"Misters Spicer? I am Detective Bucholz of the Innsbruck Police Department. I understand you are planning a holiday at this very dangerous time."

"Not 'planning'. We're on holiday," Jack growled. "And we would like to get on with it, thank you very much."

"We have reservations at the Hotel Innsbruck," RJ 13 announced. "Do you know they have a nude spa?"

Detective Buscholz's eyes flicked sideways to the android briefly.

"Misters Spicer, if you insist on remaining out in public at this time, our officers will be forced to keep an eye on you. I really cannot afford to keep so many officers watching you and your brother."

"So now this is our fault?" Jack sneered. "Pull your officers; see if I care! I'm not scared of some two bit kidnappers, that's for damn sure!"

"Mister Spicer, we would be lax in our duty as officers of the law to knowingly let you and your brother come to harm."

"Holiday," Jack snarled. "I'm on vacation and you aren't here. You aren't in my way. I'm hailing a taxi and no one is talking to me. TAXI!"

Jack kept his eyes straight forward, totally ignoring the police detective standing at his elbow. Detective Buscholz looked torn between spluttering ineffectively and appealing to Nana Spicer.

The family matriarch was glaring death at him, so that marked off one option.

"Are those the twins?" Jack asked.

Detective Buscholz turned to see that the taxi pulling up to the curb had an advertisement for Gedrose's gallery showing. Twin albino women gazed up at the camera with pale pink eyes. Detective Buscholz leapt on the opportunity.

"Yes, they are Anna and Emma Schwarz. They were taken from this very city even though the police watched their every move and _they cooperated_."

"Mmm. They're pretty," Jack said casually, as if he had just noted it was raining outside.

The other twin, Rudolph, opened the taxi's door and helped his grandmother inside before sitting next to her and pulling the door shut.

"Hotel Innsbruck," he reminded his brother. "Nude spaaaa-aaaaa!"

"We're going before he blows a gasket," Jack said with a wry smile.

"Mr. Spicer, I cannot guarantee your safety if you continue to flagrantly disregard the danger you are in!"

"I've been in danger my whole life – well, most of my formative years –and it's only since I started ignoring it that . . . wait that doesn't sound right," Jack answered as he got into the taxi. "It's only since . . ."

"You ignore it and hope it goes away?" Rudolph offered.

"I think that's worse," Nana opined.

"You know what; I'm on vacation," Jack declared. "To the Hotel Innsbruck, cabbie!"

There were cops in the hotel lobby. There were cops in the hallway outside of the Spicer's luxurious two-story suite. Jack half-expected to find an officer hiding in one of the closets, but that expectation went unfulfilled.

"Goddamn it, this is annoying," Jack growled. "I just want to go skiing!"

"We don't have any ski equipment," Rudolph pointed out.

"I'm rich! I can just go buy some! Let's go shopping! What are you doing, Nana?"

Nana Spicer was carefully lying down on a couch.

"I'm going to take a nap, Our Jackie; I'm tired."

"Tired? But—"

"I'm an old woman, Jackie! I can't be keeping up with the pair of you all the time. I'm old and I want a nap. Go shopping; go skiing; have fun."

Jack exchanged looks with his android twin. After a moment, he went and sat on the end of the couch.

"Do you want to have dinner first? We could just go downstairs to the hotel restaurant," Jack offered. "Then you could have a nap and RJ and I could . . . do something."

"Nude spaaaaaaa!" Rudolph hissed.

"All right! We'll go to the nude spa!"

The albino robot squealed in glee and clapped his hands while Nana chuckled appreciatively.

"Oh, I suppose I could hold off until after supper," she conceded. "Don't they have one of those dinner-theatre things? I wonder what the entertainment is today."

The Hotel Innsbruck was celebrating a week-long belly-dancing extravaganza. There were lovely ladies dancing and jiggling onstage, much to RJ 13's delight. Then came a well-muscled man in a red costume who brought a smile to Jack and Nana's faces. Somehow he managed to exude masculinity while shaking it in red sequins. Then three goofy Danes executed a belly dance pantomime that had the audience rolling. For the final solo act a . . . person came onstage.

A pink costume sparkled with so much gold accents the dancer seemed to sparkle in the spotlights. A judicious application of body glitter helped this effect. Short blond hair glowed under the bright lights, adding to the dancer's angelic looks. The belly dancer was graceful, lithe, and sensuous. The only thing off was . . .

"Is that a boy or girl?" Nana Spicer wondered.

"Uh . . . I . . . dunno. But I'm good either way," Jack admitted. "He/she is extremely hot."

Rudolph continued to squint at the whirling, sparkling figure.

"It's either a really butch chick or a really feminine dude," he surmised.

"Duh," Jack growled. "There aren't too many other options floating around. I'm surprised you haven't done a scan."

"I'm trying," the android admitted. "But there's too much metallic thread in the costume to get a good reading."

Jack studied the dancer for a few moments longer.

"I think it's a guy," he surmised.

"Explain the logic, Our Jackie," Nana Spicer prompted.

"The short hair," Jack stated instantly. "All the really obviously female dancers had long, pretty hair. Not only does this guy have short hair, he doesn't have anything in it. Even short-haired girls like clippies and barrettes and things. Also, the female dancers wore really dark makeup and the guys wear a tiny bit really lightly. He's got the body glitter thing going on, but the only makeup I can make out from here is a tiny bit of lip gloss _maybe_."

"He's dressed in pink," Rudolph pointed out.

"He's a tiny guy with the face of an angel who makes a living as a professional belly dancer. His level of 'not-giving-a-fuck-what-you-think' has to be astronomical," Jack declared. "I'd like to buy him a drink just for that alone."

Jack gestured for a waiter, who instantly changed course to serve the albino youth.

"Yes, sir?"

"Are the dancers allowed to accept drinks from the audience?" Jack asked.

"Yes, of course, sir," the waiter replied.

"I'd like to buy that fellow on stage a large glass of whatever he drinks," Jack stated.

The waiter didn't outwardly change expression, but a little twinkle in his eye let Jack know he'd extrapolated the dancer's sex correctly.

"Well done, sir!"

"What's his name? Do you know?"

"Ah . . . it's Matthias . . . something. Starts with a 'C', I believe. He's American," the waiter offered.

"Let's skip to the question you really want to ask, Jack," Rudolph cut in. "Is he gay?"

"Geez, what the hell happened to Mr. Subtle?" the young genius spat. "You've been hanging around Nana too long!"

"Erm . . . he is . . ." the waiter muttered uncertainly.

A look of pure smug graced Jack's features.

"He has a boyfriend . . ."

"Ha! Too bad for you!" Rudolph crowed.

"Please ignore my brother; he's an idiot. I would still like you to deliver a drink to Mr. Matthias 'Something-Starts-With-A-C' and let him know that he's awesome."

"With pleasure, sir!" The waiter declared.

"I'm for a nap, lads," Nana sighed once he had gone.

"We'll walk you back up to the room," Rudolph offered, standing.

"And then we'll hit up the spa," Jack stated. "I could use a massage."

Nana was duly deposited back in the room and the pair of seeming twin brothers headed up to the top floor to visit the much-vaunted nude spa of legend.

Jack and Rudolph undressed in the locker room and walked out into the spa proper. It was mostly empty at this hour. The main room housed an indoor pool while smaller rooms for massages, mud wraps, skin scrubs and various other spa treatments branch off from it. Jack could see the doors to the sauna at the other end of the room and made plans to visit in the very near future.

But for now . . .

"Swimming time!" Jack declared.

The albino youth took a few strides forward and dove into the pool, letting his body careen through the warm water. Jack had always liked swimming; his parents could always afford an indoor pool and his doctors had recommended swimming as a non-stressful exercise for his poor, fragile albino body.

What would they say if they saw him practicing kung fu?

Sure, at first his hands, feet, shins, arms, legs, and back were pretty much a mass of bruises and he was fairly certain he had fractured something in his foot at one point, but he healed. He grew stronger. His bone density was probably double what it had been when he actually listened to his physicians. And now look at him: Jack Spicer used to get embarrassed being in a swimsuit around ghosts of women and now he was strutting his stuff bare-assed naked in public (sorta).

Shame was no longer his middle name.

His middle name was Albert after his grandfather and if you thought that was a dorky name, you could suck his albino dick. Jack Spicer was his own man.

Jack surfaced in the shallow end and slicked his hair back.

"Wow."

Rudolph's voice echoed over the sloshing water.

"You made that look _good_. My turn!"

Jack tensed.

"_NoRJdon't—_"

Too late.

RoboJack Unit 13, a.k.a. Rudolph Jacob Spicer, took a step back, then dove gracefully into the spa pool. Moments later a loud 'thunk!' echoed up from the bottom as five hundred and some odd pounds of android slammed into the concrete of the pool bottom. Jack put a hand over his mouth and hoped no one was paying too much attention. A few spa attendants did look around in confusion, but no one connected the loud noise with Rudolph's less-than-elegant dive.

After a minute or two, the white and red blur at the bottom of the pool started to move towards the shallow end. RJ emerged from the water like Venus with a busted nose. Or at least, that's what Jack concluded from the way he kept his hand plastered over it.

"Did you break your nose? Let me see!"

"It's fine, it's fine," Rudolph grumbled, looking totally humiliated. "The nanobots are fixing it."

"You aren't built for swimming, you know!" Jack pointed out.

"Thanks for that timely warning," the android spat. "Oghnn . . . does it look okay?"

Rudolph removed his hand from his nose. Only a keen eye would have caught the minute movements of nanobots working under the skin, pushing the tip and nostrils back into place.

"Yeah, give it couple of minutes before you show it to anybody else, though."

"Okay. I'm going to have a mud wrap. You might want to swim while you can."

"While I can? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think I cracked the bottom," Rudolph admitted, climbing the stairs out of the pool.

Jack elected to get a sea weed body wrap and a deep tissue massage while puzzled maintenance men tried to figure out why the pool was suddenly leaking. The spa attendant was trying to talk him into a body scrub when a golden, glowing figure sauntered across his vision.

Jack switched off the overeager attendant and watched Matthias 'Something-Starts-With-A-C' glide across the tile floor and head into the sauna.

"Oh," he muttered quietly.

"Jack!" Rudolph appeared out of nowhere. "My thaumeter just read a _massive_ spike!"

"Magic?" Jack tore his eyes away from Matthias for a moment. "Shen Gong Wu?"

"No, wrong signature. I'd say it's more _somebody_ than _something._"

"Yeah, that's fascinating, I'm going to hit the sauna –"

_Something_ passed by them. Something powerful and large that practically radiated dark magic. Something that was in the shape of a gloriously naked man that followed Matthias 'With a C' in a sultry swagger.

"Yeah, that would be him," Rudolph said quietly.

"You . . . you don't think he's going do something to the dancer, are you?" Jack asked.

"Who cares?" the android asked.

"I care. Guys that gorgeous and confident and sexy are rare! Come on!"

Jack quickly got up and hurried into the sauna after the pair. Matthias and the dark-haired stranger were cuddled together on a bench, both completely nude and perspiring gently.

"Hi!" Jack blurted, taking a seat on a bench. "Got room for two more?"

Matthias With-A-C started to roll his eyes, but stopped when he saw Jack and Rudolph.

"O-oh . . . he muttered quietly.

The belly dancer exchanged a look with the dark-haired stranger. Unspoken understanding flashed between them. Jack stopped. That look . . . that was not a look passed between strangers. That was a look passed between two people who were very familiar with each other; very familiar indeed.

"Um . . . excuse me," Jack said. "You're the dancer from the show, right? Matthias Something-With-A-C'?"

"Oh, good research! It's Matthias Conway, by the way. And this my lover, Phooka Aughisky."

"It's a pleasure," Phooka purred in a voice like hot sex.

Jack had to swallow hard.

"J-Jack Spicer. This is my brother, Rudolph."

"You're a great dancer," Rudolph said politely.

"This is probably a completely asshole question," Matty said with a flirty grin. "But are you two gay?"

"He is," Rudolph said, pointing at Jack.

"I'm bi, but close enough," the man in question corrected.

"Oh, geez; I knew my luck wasn't that good," Matty sighed. "Who could pass up a pair of twins that look like you?"

The door of the sauna swung open again and a young blonde woman strode confidently into the small room.

"Well, if I aren't the lucky one!" she declared. "Walking into a room full of hot, sexy – JACK?"

Jack and Rudolph tore their gazes from the other two men in the sauna.

"_Ashley_?" They blurted in one voice.


	6. Hymns for Bastards

Ashley Katz, neé the villainess Katnappé, stared at the two albinos before her.

"Jack? What the hell are you doing here?"

As she spoke, the blonde kept looking back and forth between Jack and Rudolph, as if she couldn't tell which one was which.

"Ah . . ."

"Uh . . ."

Jack and Rudolph exchanged a look. Neither one wanted to let the greedy ex-thief hear about a splendid treasure trove nearby.

"We're um . . . we're taking a cruise!" Rudolph offered.

"It's been a journey of self-discovery," Jack offered.

Ashley gave them both a disbelieving look.

"Yeah, we've seeing new lands and meeting new people . . . and having sex with them," Jack continued.

Ashley did not look any more convinced.

"Actually, our grandpa took this route when he was fleeing from the Allies and this is the 60th anniversary!" Rudolph suggested.

"We got lost?" Jack offered.

"We lost a bet."

"God told us to do it."

Ashley finally snickered, looking back and forth between the two young men.

"Old friend?" Matthias inquired.

"Old something," Jack said.

"Well, don't be a stranger, come and sit with us," Rudolph said, patting the wooden bench between himself and Jack.

Still looking back and forth between Jack and Rudolph, Ashley sat between them, eyeballing the pair as if she couldn't tell the difference between creator and creation.

_She couldn't tell the difference between creator and creation!_

It was one thing when regular people assumed Rudolph was human, but Ashley knew about the Robojacks! She didn't even blink when she saw twelve in a row. Even with that prior knowledge, she couldn't tell the difference!

'_Take that, Uncanny Valley!' _Jack howled in the privacy of his own mind. '_I am officially a tech god! Oh, the nanobots are even pushing beads of water out through his pores! He must have taken on water when he hit the bottom of the pool! I invented a robot that __**sweats**__! I even made his face slightly asymmetrical because it looks more realistic! And the body hair was such a pain in the ass to do but now I'm glad I did it!_'

"So we haven't seen you in a while," Rudolph observed. "Are you still the cat fanatic?"

"Oh, Jesus . . . the things that seem like a good idea when you're fourteen! I was trying to sell the whole 'cat burglar' thing . . ."

The lights abruptly went out. There were some confused shouts out in the main spa area. Rudolph got up off of the bench and shuffled to the door. The beams of flashlights bobbed in the pool area.

"What's up with the lights?" he called.

"Pardon, sir!" someone called back. "The workers accidently cut a power line when they were working on the pool. We will have the lights back on momentarily."

"Yeah, right, thanks," the android muttered in embarrassment.

He shuffled back to the sauna bench, wanged his shin on it and muttered an oath. Jack was about to call Rudolph out on his devotion to verisimilitude when Ashley let out what could only be described as a purr.

"Mmm, Jack, you sure have made some improvements, haven't you? I wouldn't have believed these muscles if I hadn't felt them myself."

Jack frowned into the dark. Ashley hadn't felt his muscles. She wasn't even touching him.

"Uh . . ." Rudolph began.

Jack bit his lip. Ashley _had_ gotten them mixed up! Oh, that was too funny!

"Actually—" Jack started.

"I wasn't talking to you, you bag of bolts!" Ashley snapped.

There was a pause. Maybe the soul of Jack's long-dead brother had come to inhabit his robot double, because he could swear he and Rudolph shared the thought of 'Oh no, she di'n't.'

"That's not a very nice thing to say to an android," Rudolph said. "He prefers to be called mecha."

Jack could hear the slide of skin against skin.

"What do you say we get out of here and let the 'mecha' go plug into a wall or whatever he does for fun?" Ashley practically moaned.

Wonder Twin Cyborg powers combined again, because the tech genius could swear he shared the thought of 'So she thinks she has a hold of _Jack_, huh?' with his mechanized doppelganger.

"He plugs into appliances to simulate sex," Rudolph said with condescending chuckle.

Jack was glad it was dark, because he couldn't help the evil grin that twisted across his face.

"Master Jack, I forgot my adaptors," he said in what he hoped was an innocent voice. "I'll have to jack into a laptop."

"I suppose if you must, Rudolph," Rudolph sighed. "_Robots_."

"Let's get out of here," Ashley said, pulling him to his feet.

Jack waited until he heard the door shut behind them before laughing. The lights flickered back on. The dark and deadly creature masquerading as Phooka was sitting right next to him, his face only inches from Jack's.

"So," Phooka murmured. "When do you think she'll realize she picked the robot?"

Jack yelped and scooted across the bench. When he was as far away as he could possibly get, he managed to answer the question.

"Uh – ah – if I know Rudolph, he won't reveal himself until after he seals the deal."

Phooka's brows rose.

"She'll have sex with a robot before she realizes he's not human?"

"I'm _good,_" Jack announced."_Real_ good."

"Do I need to seal the door?" Matthias asked.

He was standing by the sauna door holding a small slip of paper. Jack could guess that it was some sort of spell but he was more curious about where the young man had been hiding it. Wait; why would a human be helping out an evil creature? The tech genius sobered as he got the mental image of a bright, shining lure dangled before an unsuspecting fish only to be whisked out of reach directly in front of a pair of massive jaws.

"Oh Jesus . . . . you're _bait_! And I fell for it! That's it, I'm swearing off guys forever!" Jack declared. He snuck another look at Matthias.

"At least three months," he amended.

Another look caressed Phooka's handsome features and chiseled body.

"Two weeks is the floor."

The dark creature hung his head and started laughing.

"Should I seal the door?" The blond repeated.

"Before you do, I should let you know that Chase Young is stalking me," Jack announced. "And he'll be at least mildly perturbed if you kill me. I think."

Phooka's head shot up, his green eyes wide.

"Chase Young?"

"You know him?" Jack asked.

"We used to date," Phooka admitted. "Oh, come on; I have got to hear this story!"

"Story? What story?" Matthias asked.

"The story of how Chase Young ended up stalking a mortal. A mortal who is out cruising for dick alone, indicating Dragon Breath's affections are probably not returned. Smart move; he's a selfish lover," Phooka stated. "He snores, too."

Jack couldn't help a small snort at how quickly Phooka had gone from cool, sexy danger to catty gossip.

"He does not dump well," the albino admitted.

Phooka slapped his thigh and burst out laughing.

"We are taking you out for a drink, Jack," he announced. "I have _got_ to hear this! And I'm a little curious about the robot, too."

"Can't . . . ah . . . believe how you . . . . hah . . . turned out, Jack!" Ashley breathed.

Rudolph let out a noise that might have been agreement but it was muffled by Ashley's throat. The pair hadn't even made it back to the room. Currently they were holed up in the elevator, groping and fondling. The young couple was vaguely aware of the door chiming and sliding open.

"Mister Spicer?"

Rudolph tore his mouth away from Ashley's to give the police officer standing in the doorway a death glare.

"I am. A little. Busy," the android snapped.

"Just part of our efforts to keep albinos safe, sir," the officer said calmly. "Have you known this young lady very long?"

"I've known her since she was fourteen!" Rudolph snapped.

"Come on, Jack, let's go back to my room," Ashley said, punching an elevator button.

The door closed and took them down a further two floors, where they stumbled down the hallway unmolested except by each other. Ashley managed to produce her key card long enough to open the door, then the pair were shedding clothes across her hotel suite. Rudolph/Jack tossed off his jacket and shirt, then helped Ashley out of hers.

The pair was highly distracted and never noticed two tiny balls of fluff cuddling down on the recently discarded jacket. In fact, they fell into bed and didn't notice anything else for a very long time.

"This is . . . this is . . . I don't wish to do this," Chase Young announced.

Several cat warriors gave him sour looks. The dragon lord had been putting this off for days. He really needed to know what sort of 'benefits' Jack Spicer used to keep his minions coming back around. The only people who knew were Spicer, Wuya, and the minions themselves. Damn and blast modern education; none of Jack's former minions were stupid enough to tell Chase their former paygrade without expecting it to be upped considerably. That left Wuya or Spicer. Even if Chase were desperate enough to bring back Wuya's ghost, she wouldn't tell him what he needed to know without promises of being returned to flesh. To paraphrase Spicer 'Fuck _that_ very much.'

That left Jack Spicer himself to ask about hiring practices. As hard as it would be to be humble, it was the simplest and most straightforward option.

It was also going to _suck_.

"He'll gloat," Chase told the cats. "That's what I'd do. That's what . . . that's what he'll do."

One of the cats tried to casually move the warlord's chalice out of reach. Quick as a snake, Chase snatched the cup back, making sure it was still filled with rice wine.

"However, I'm _not_ going to call him without a little liquid courage. Now be still."

Not many would have expected Chase Young, immortal Heylin dragon, to own a cell phone. Fewer still would have expected he could dial so easily, even when less than sober.

"So here I am, robot twin and psychopathic grandma in tow. I gotta say, even if there's no treasure it's been totally worth it," Jack said, draining his glass.

"Wow," Phooka said simply. "I knew he was a control-freak headcase, but Jesus."

Jack shrugged lightly and held up his glass for a refill. The bartender came down to the trio and topped up their drinks. The tech lord's phone vibrated. Jack looked at the screen and frowned. Obviously for someone of his talents, caller ID blockers weren't a challenge. His cell phone LCD screen announced: 'Unknown caller – Magical Origin' There was only one person in the world that would call him on a magical signal.

"Chase is calling me right now," the albino announced.

Phooka burst out laughing.

"Shit, he really is stalking you!" the kelpie chortled. "Psycho!"

"Hello?" Jack said, taking the call.

"Spicer," Chase answered. "I – I'd like to talk . . . . villain to villain . . . about mmmm, about . . . . . . . . . . um . . . . benefits."

"Are you drunk?" Jack asked in disbelief.

Phooka nearly fell off of his barstool with laughter.

"He's drunk-dialing you! Oh my gods!"

Jack turned away from the roaring fairy and stuck a finger in his free ear.

"Benefits?"

"Yes. Yes. Mmmm, the sort a villain needs. I know . . . I know . . . . have my sources that you give great benefits. I'd – I'd like a small sample."

Jack lowered his phone for a long moment. When he brought it back to his ear, his voice was far calmer than he felt.

"You want to be villains-with-benefits?"

Phooka's laughter bordered on a scream. There was a long moment of confused silence from Chase's end of the phone.

"Villains-with-benefits?" the dragon lord echoed. "That – that . . . does that sound right? That – Mei Xian is shaking her head. Does that mean you give um . . . minions lots of perks? So they stay?"

"Oh! Oh, you mean _employee_ benefits! Oh thank god. No, that's –" Around this point Jack realized he was talking to air.

Phooka snatched the phone from Jack's grip and spoke into it. It was a long stream of smooth, alien-sounding words, ruined only the guttural '_bitch!'_ tacked on the end.

"Phooka! I was talking on that!" Spicer cried.

Chase went very, very still. For a moment he thought he was far more drunk than previously imagined.

"Ph-Phooka the Aughisky?" he said weakly.

The kelpie ignored Jack and continued talking the strange language. The albino cast an exasperated look at Matthias.

"You know, the fact that he acts like a retarded twelve year old is part of his charm," the blond announced.

Jack had to laugh.

"I have to admit, he is a lot more . . . . . um . . . . casual than most of the immortals I know."

"He's like a big kid. Going through his twenty-second childhood for all I know," Matthias said with a shrug. "But it makes sense that people who live forever tend to forget to take joy in the little things. Phooka . . . he was in a bad way when I found him. He says that sometimes fairies get so depressed that they just let themselves be reabsorbed into the earth. If they have the motivation they can pull themselves out of it, but what's motivation to a patch of dirt or a tree?"

"He was close to death?"

"A temporary sort of death, but yeah. He was more animal than hum – person when I Bound him. I brought him out of himself and made him see things in a new light. Even though immortals live infinitely, they don't actually live forever. Humans – and human-shaped beings – aren't really meant to live forever. It does things to their mind."

Jack considered this as Matthias took a casual sip of his drink.

"So . . . if a person lives for a very long time, they go funny in the head?" He asked. "How old is Phooka?"

"About five thousand years, give or take a century," the dancer said. "It's hard to be exactly sure since they didn't have a concept of 'years' when he was young."

Five thousand years. It took five thousand years for a supernatural being to go from apex predator to suicidal lump. Did that mean fifteen hundred years was when they started that slow slide into insanity? Dojo didn't seem crazy and he was the same age. Then again, Dojo was a dragon. Chase had been human. Even with a supernatural conversion, that amount of time had to wreak havoc on a human-form brain. Chase sane was scary; Chase completely unhinged was unthinkable.

"Wow, I really dodged a bullet," Jack muttered.

"You're fucking drunk dialing him and he's out cruising for dick with his robot twin!" the fairy squealed.

"That man does not represent me!" Jack yelled.

"Hey, let's go karaoke," Matty said abruptly. "We'll leave the immortals to their immaturity."

Jack laughed.

"That sounds great!"


	7. Bully In the Alley

"_Wild Thing!_

_Wild Thing!_

_Wild thing, I think you move me_

_But I wanna know for sure!_

_Every time I kiss you I taste what other men had for lunch!_

_The only thing that can get you off is to see me in pain!_

_Wild Thing!"_

Jack sang, head flung back dramatically.

"Oh God, not the Sam Kinison version!" Matty wheezed, his own microphone dangling from his hand.

"_You make my heart scream!  
You took everything!  
Oh, wild thing!  
Wild thing, I think you move me!  
Ah, that just came to my mind – I thought I'd say it…  
You made me trust you, then stuck the knife in my heart!  
You're a lying, unfaithful, untrustable tramp, and I think I love you!  
Wild thing!  
You make my heart scream!  
You took everything!  
Oh, wild thing!"_

The young albino man posed on the small stage, rocking out as though he were in front of an audience of thousands. Maybe it was the drinks or maybe he was finally in his own element with immortal magical beings around, but he just seemed like he was having a good time.

"I don't know the words to this one!" Matty protested.

"_Wild thing!  
Oh, we've all had some kind of wild thing that went through our lives and made it hell.  
'Cause everybody's had one – you, me – NOBODY likes to lose!  
And you know she's out there, laughing at you –  
I don't care if it was last week or the 3rd grade!  
Someone broke your heart!  
What was her name?  
Wild thing!  
I'll never forgive you!  
You make my heart scream!  
How do you live with yourself?  
You took everything!  
You never loved me!  
Oh, wild thing!  
You used me!  
Wild thing!"_

"Do you hear that, Dragonbreath?" Phooka taunted, still holding Jack's phone. "I think he's talking about you."

Chase Young, buzz thoroughly killed, called up the Eye Spy Orb to take in Jack in a very flattering suit belting out lyrics. Spicer always had been very musical.

"I . . . have always been something of a heartbreaker," Chase offered smoothly. "It's to be expected that I still haunt Spicer's thoughts."

"_I hope you slide under a gas truck and taste your own blood!  
You make my heart scream!  
Why didn't you tell me you were a demon from Hell?  
You took everything!  
You deserve the men you're gonna meet, you loser!  
Oh, wild thing!  
Railroad bums! Transients! Out-of work guys!  
Wild thing!  
Guy who're gonna use you like you used me!  
Wild thing!  
Guys who are gonna take money out of your purse and crawl out a window!  
Wild thing!  
Oh! O-o-o-o-o-oh!  
Wild thing!  
What's her name?_

Yea-a-a-a-a-a-ah!

"

"Oh, yeah, he's still pining for you," Phooka offered with a mean snicker.

"This could be my plan to have a lover who is well-travelled and experienced in life," Chase stated.

"It could be, but it's not," the kelpie chortled. "He wouldn't be so bitter if you had just let him go."

"Don't underestimate my ability to seduce, water horse," the dragon lord said. "Jack has matured more than you can imagine. I definitely prefer his current state of dress."

"You're watching him now?"

Chase thought a very bad word. Within a minute, the Eye Spy Orb clouded over, revealing nothing but darkness.

"That's very immature," he growled into the phone.

The words 'Stalking Isn't Sexy' glowed against the clouds for a moment, then disappeared.

"_Bitch_."

Phooka all but giggled into the phone.

"I think it's time someone leveled the playing field here, Dragonbreath."

Chase could feel his ears pop as though the elevation had changed, even though he hadn't moved an inch.

"_What did you do?_"

"Come one come all," Phooka announced in a singsong voice, like the cheesiest carnival barker. "Welcome to the world's greatest entertainment since the fall of Rome!"

"What are you quoting?"

"Life, death, victims, voyeurs, the best of society, the lowest of plebeians, and to keep it all in extremely interesting, today's patrons could very easily be tomorrow's entertainment! All compliments of the ultimate showman: Fate! All that's missing is the coliseum!"

Phooka hung up the phone, knowing Chase couldn't call back thanks to the newly-cast spell. In fact, if Chase Young wanted to find Jack Spicer now, he had to do it the old-fashioned way. No Eye Spy Orbs, no scrying spells, no magical surveillance.

Jack Spicer was free.

"Oh man," Jack said, coming off the stage with his arm around Matty's shoulders. "That was fun! I haven't had such a good time in ages."

The kelpie draped his arm over Jack's shoulders.

"Let's see if we can't improve that good time a little," Phooka purred.

Jack paused to look at the sexy supernatural monster on one side of him, then the impossibly beautiful mortal on the other.

"This is basically just to get back at Chase, right?" the tech lord guessed.

"Pretty much," Phooka admitted.

Jack considered this for a second, then assessed the two men alongside him.

"I'm okay with that," he declared.

* * *

"That . . . . that . . . . was just . . . . _wow_, Jack," Ashley announced. "Four times?"

"Sorry, that's never happened before," Rudolph said, pulling his pants up. "I must be tired."

The blonde made a vague noise of amazement, but managed to crawl to the side of the bed and retrieve a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Ashley put a smoke between her lips and attempted to work the lighter.

"I had no idea you'd . . . I mean, if I knew you'd grow up like this, I would have been a lot nicer when we were kids. But you were always so infatuated with those _stupid_ robots . . ."

Either the lighter was out of fluid or her hands were shaking too much, because she still wasn't having any luck making a flame.

"Hey Ashley," Rudolph said, still clad in only his slacks. "Do you know what the secret of comedy is?"

At her slightly puzzled look, the android leaned in and caused his pinkie finger to flip backwards at the joint, revealing a small cutting torch dialed down low enough to light a cigarette.

"_Timing_," the robojack announced with a grin.

A minute later, Rudolph was running down the hallway with the rest of his clothes clutched to his chest. Lamps, ashtrays, and other small, throwable objects crashed into the wall behind him.

"_And don't ever come back, you walking masturbatory aide!_" Ashley screamed.

Rudolph howled with laughter as the elevator doors closed behind him. He was still cackling madly when he exited on his own floor and made his way down to the Spicer suite. He nodded at the policeman at the door and let himself in.

"Have fun, our Jackie?" Nana asked.

"I'm Rudolph, Nana," the android said innocently. "I just got through playing Jack on TV is – what the hell?"

"Oh, sorry, baby; I heard the evil laughter and thought . . . what is it?"

Rudolph frowned down and the clothing in his arms. The jacket heaved and shifted and two tiny balls of white fluff peered up at the android.

"_Mew_!" one announced.

"Kittens?" Nana said. "Where did you find those?"

"They – they must have crawled into my jacket in Ashley's room," Rudolph said.

"Ashley? Jackie used to have a friend named Ashley," Nana said, peering at the two baby cats.

"No he didn't," Rudolph corrected. "And he sure doesn't now. He used to _know_ a girl named Ashley. Awwwwww, they're so cute."

The little white kittens nuzzled against the android's chest, kneading his simulated skin with pink jellybean toes. They blinked trusting red eyes up at Rudolph and purred.

"Oh, oh, can we keep them?" Rudolph pleaded. "I'll feed them and take care of them! I'll bet they're really smart; Ashley used to genetically modify her cats. Please?"

"I don't know, our J - Rudolph," Nana sighed. "What would Jackie say?"

In truth, she was a little startled. She knew that Rudolph was taking the first steps to what she considered real life, but she wasn't expecting him to already be at the 'dragging home pets' stage.

Jack really had made her another grandchild.

"But I already named them! This is Asimov and this is Einstein."

"You don't even know if they're male or female, Rudolph."

"Well, _technically_ Asimov and Einstein were surnames, so it doesn't really matter if they're boys or girls."

Nana lifted the tails of the two kittens.

"You have two little girls, Rudolph."

"So I _can_ keep them?"

"Well . . . . I don't see why not," Nana sighed.

* * *

" . . . and when most kids were just trying to touch tits, I was out trolling the baseball team. Jesus, things got ugly when I turned fourteen," Matty said, opening the door to their hotel suite.

"I spent most of my fourteenth year as a monkey," Jack announced. "Magical transformations," he said with a shrug.

"Gah! That's so hot!" Matty announced.

"Uh . . . it is?" Jack asked. "Most people wouldn't consider monkeys sexy . . ."

"Not the monkey thing," the blond corrected. "The fact that you spent a year transformed into another living creature! I mean, wow!"

"Shapeshifters are his fetish," Phooka whispered.

"Ah. Well, I didn't bring the Monkey Staff, but I'll do my best," Jack joked.

Without another word, the albino youth pounced on the bed, causing Matthias to fall back and laugh. Jack pulled up the memory of using the Monkey Staff, feeling his frail body take on the strength of a great ape while gaining agility exponentially. Jack grinned ferally and ripped his shirt off to thump his chest. Matty squealed with laughter, applauding.

"I can't believe I found the one guy on earth who finds monkeys hot. _Hoo hoo haaAAAAAA!_"

"It's the transformation!" Matty said in a dreamy tone. "Wow, I'll never get tired of that."

"Transformation? But I didn't –"

It was around then that Jack realized he was hanging from the metal bed canopy frame by both hands and one foot. Strangely enough, his first thought was that he didn't remember taking off his shoes and sock, not that he had a thumb on his foot.

"And the tail looks like fun, too!"

He was . . . he was transformed. He was Monkey Jack, without the use of a Shen Gong Wu.

_Holy fuck_ . . . .

Jack pulled himself up to balance on the corner of the bed frame, curling his tail around the post. How – how the hell had he managed to magically transform without the use of a 'Wu? Chase did it, but he was special –_Special Olympics!_ A nasty part of his brain offered. But then . . . everyone talked about _using_ magic, not _being_ magic. Maybe the Shen Gong Wu were like training wheels? They gave the boost to get things started and you did it yourself once you got used to it? It's not like Raimundo needed the Sword of the Storm to command wind anymore. And Jack _had_ used the Monkey Staff more than anybody.

"So are we going to get any foreplay or are things about to get primal?" Phooka asked, sitting on the bed with a bottle of lubricant in his hand.

Jack looked down at the two incredibly beautiful men on the bed beneath him. Spontaneous transformations were very interesting and he'd have to put together a serious theory about it later but right now sex.

"I am the Monkey King!" Jack howled, launching himself off of the canopy.

Early the next morning, Jack staggered out of the hotel room, hair ruffled, hickeys marring his throat and absolutely reeking of sex.

"So many . . . tentacles . . ." He rasped.

He had to stop by the front desk and ask what room he was in because he had totally forgotten. The concierge directed him to the correct suite and he slumped against the wall in the elevator.

This was officially the best vacation in the history of ever and he hadn't even been skiing yet.

Oh yeah; the treasure.

Jack checked his watch to see where his digging machines were. Somewhere south of Innsbruck, a heavy truck driven by Rudolph's old body was full of bleeding edge tech and robots ready to tear a mountain a new asshole.

Jack smiled to himself. He still had time for a day of skiing.

"Good morning, Mister Spicer," the police officer stationed outside the elevator door said.

"Jesus, you guys are still here? I thought that Detective said he didn't have men to spare babysitting us," Jack asked.

"No, sir, he doesn't," the police officer stated.

"So why-?"

That was as far as Jack got before the stun gun slammed into his ribs. The albino youth slumped to the ground.

"One down, one to go," the 'police officer' declared.


End file.
